


Almosts and Maybes

by arysa13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Weddings, well my version of a slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Bellamy has never wanted to get married. Has never even really thought about it. That is, until he watches Clarke Griffin marry someone else.





	1. What You're Looking For

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to Rosie for proofreading and giving me suggestions and reassuring me I don't suck. (Sorry I'm so needy!!)

Bellamy never would have imagined that the first wedding he would attend would be that of his little sister’s best friend, Clarke Griffin. She’s only nineteen for fuck’s sake, which, in Bellamy’s opinion, is way too young to get married. He’s twenty-eight, and he’s not even _thinking_ about marriage. Not even in an abstract, _maybe one day_ , type way.

Not that he’s told Clarke his feelings on her wedding. For one thing, it’s not his place. Yeah, maybe he’s always done his best to protect her and give her advice and help her when she needs it, but somehow this feels different from helping her with her homework, or making sure she and Octavia get home safe from a party.

Besides, her mom already tried to talk her out of it, and that only made Clarke want to do it more. Bellamy had to be very careful not to let her know he agreed with Abby when Clarke was ranting to him about her mom not being supportive of the marriage. Abby has come around now, but it took the better part of the year-long engagement.

Bellamy is happy for Clarke, despite his reservations. He’s trying not to be cynical, and he wants to believe for Clarke’s sake that this marriage will last more than a few months. Clarke and Wells have already lasted through the first year of college together, although admittedly they go to the same college.

Bellamy shouldn’t really be surprised, anyway. Clarke has always been a romantic, and she’s been dating Wells for four years. Bellamy remembers her being obsessed with the movie 27 Dresses. And pretty much any reality show to do with weddings. He’d asked her once, when she was maybe fifteen, if she had her dream wedding planned. She had told him haughtily, “ _It’s not about the wedding. It’s about the marriage._ ” He still thinks it’s a little about the wedding.

Bellamy bounces his leg and checks his watch. It’s five past three.

“She’s late,” he mutters to Roma, his date for the wedding, sitting beside him on the front pew. She’s mostly just there because he’d checked _yes_ to bringing a plus one, for what reason he still doesn’t know. Roma isn’t his girlfriend, nor does she want to be. She’s there for the free booze and an excuse to dress up. If Bellamy had detected any sense of Roma wanting more from him than the casual sex they’ve been having lately, he wouldn’t have brought her. He never lets things get serious with anyone.

Roma gives her dead-straight hair a flick. “Duh,” she says. “The bride is always late. She has to make an entrance.”

Bellamy glances over his shoulder at the open church doors, but the doorway remains empty. Behind him, the church is packed with people he doesn’t know. He feels out of place sitting up here at the front next to Clarke’s step-dad, Marcus Kane. But according to Clarke, Bellamy is family, and he belongs at the front with the rest of her family. And it’s not that he doesn’t think of Clarke as family too, because he does. It’s just overwhelming to know that she places him as highly in her life as her mom and step-dad.

At the altar, Wells stands, hands folded in front of him. His face is stoic, but he’s probably all kinds of nervous on the inside. Bellamy knows he would be if it were him. Monty and Jasper stand beside Wells, his groomsmen and emotional support.

Bellamy imagines that the fact that they’re in a church is Wells’ doing. Clarke has never been particularly religious. Or maybe it’s part of the wedding fantasy. To get married in a big fancy church. It is beautiful in here, Bellamy concedes, admiring the way the sun shines through the stained-glass windows. He just doesn’t think it’s really _Clarke_.

Music starts, finally, a song Bellamy doesn’t recognise. It’s modern though, not the traditional bridal march. Everyone turns their heads towards the doors as one of Clarke’s bridesmaids, Harper McIntyre, steps through them, dressed in pale blue chiffon, holding a bouquet of white flowers. As Harper makes her way down the aisle, she’s followed by Octavia. Bellamy grins, knowing how much Octavia hates the dress she’s wearing. Bellamy can’t remember the last time he saw his sister in a dress. She’s smiling though. Her happiness for her friend must outweigh her distaste at her outfit. Or perhaps she’s a better actor than Bellamy gives her credit for.

And then, Clarke. She steps into the church holding a bouquet of flowers that almost match the colour of her eyes. She looks like an angel, or a princess, or a mixture of the two. The grin drops from Bellamy’s face, and something lodges in his throat. He doesn’t think he’s ever been left _breathless_ before, but that’s how he feels right now.

The white dress is made of mostly lace, clinging to her curves indecently. Her blonde hair falls in loose curls around her shoulders, and a tiara sparkles at the top of her head. And she looks so fucking happy. Her smile lights up her face, and Bellamy’s heart is racing at the sight of her.

“Wow,” Roma murmurs beside him. “She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?”

Bellamy swallows, trying to clear his throat. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely.

God, what’s wrong with him? He can’t comprehend his own reaction. He’s seen plenty of beautiful women before, and he’s known Clarke for _years_. It’s not like he didn’t already know she was gorgeous. He’s not _blind._ Yet he can’t drag his eyes away from her as she walks down the aisle. At least everyone else is staring at her too.

She meets his eyes as she reaches the front pew, though Bellamy is sure she should be focused solely on her husband-to-be. He manages a smile, and hopes he doesn’t look as dumbfounded as he feels.

Bellamy tries to focus on the ceremony taking place before him, but all he can think about is how sexy Clarke looks in that dress. Which is so, so wrong, for so many reasons. For one thing, she’s like a second sister to him, and he’s sure she’d be scandalised if she found out he’d entertained such thoughts. Secondly, he’s here with another woman, and serious or not, his attention should only be for her. And lastly, but most importantly, it’s Clarke’s fucking wedding to another man. Bellamy may have never been to a wedding before, but he’s pretty certain you’re not supposed to fucking lust after the bride.

Bellamy closes his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself. He tells himself it’s not a big deal. So he thinks she’s attractive. So does everyone else in this room, because she _is_. He’s just freaked himself out because it’s the first time he’s looked at her that way. Well, maybe not the first time, if he’s being completely honest. But it’s the first time he hasn’t been able to quickly think of something else to distract himself. The first time he hasn’t been able to lie to himself and pretend he’s not thinking it. Maybe he has a wedding dress kink.

He opens his eyes just as Clarke says _I do_ , and something dark twists in his gut.

 

-

 

In the hours between the ceremony ending and the reception beginning, Bellamy takes Roma back to his place, and once he’s fucked her a couple of times, and they’ve had a few drinks, he’s starting to feel normal again.

Roma fixes her hair and make-up in Bellamy’s bathroom mirror, and they head to the reception. It’s being held in the function room at an upscale restaurant, one Bellamy would never be able to afford to eat at, let alone pay for two hundred other people to eat at. Luckily, both the Griffins and the Jahas are loaded.

Most people who attended the ceremony are already there, drinking and mingling, waiting for the recent Mr and Mrs Jaha to arrive with the rest of the bridal party. Bellamy gets himself and Roma a drink and they find their table just as Thelonius Jaha introduces himself as the MC and asks everyone to take their seats. John Murphy falls into the seat next to Bellamy, and beside him, Nathan Miller. The only two people Bellamy is still friends with from high school. Bellamy is surprised the two of them were even invited, since Clarke is only really friends with them by association.

“Couldn’t get a date, Murphy?” Bellamy smirks, taking a sip of his beer.

“Maybe Miller is my date.”

“I wouldn’t be your date if you paid me,” Miller snorts. “I’m Jackson’s date.” Said date, Eric Jackson, slips into the seat beside Miller.

“So how _did_ you get invited, Murphy?” Bellamy asks. “Doesn’t Wells still hate you after the time you keyed his car?”

“Pretty sure Griffin has the hots for me,” Murphy says. “It’s the only explanation.”

Before Bellamy can come up with a witty response, Jaha is announcing Harper and Jasper. They enter the room, arms linked, grinning. Octavia and Monty are next, Octavia’s updo already looking a little worse for wear. Then Jaha announces the happy couple, and Clarke and Wells enter the room, and Clarke is looking at Wells giddily, while Bellamy watches Clarke, that lump back in his throat. His eyes linger on the deep dip of her neck line, and he has a sudden vision of himself peeling the dress off her. His face heats up at the thought of it, and he quickly looks away, taking a long swig of his drink. Maybe he’s a little drunk already. That’s the only explanation.

Murphy gives a low whistle, loud enough for only their table to hear. “Fucking hell, look at those tits. If she wasn’t married…” Bellamy glares at him, daring him to go on.  Murphy looks a little sheepish as he picks at the bread roll in front of him.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Bellamy says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Murphy mutters. “Sorry. I know she’s like… basically your sister.”

Bellamy has a strange urge to deny this, to remind Murphy and everyone else at the table that Clarke isn’t his sister, though he’s been known on many an occasion to refer to her as ‘like a sister’ himself. Instead, he gives Murphy a sharp nod.

“Just don’t do it again. And you know, maybe if you grew up and stopped talking about _all_ women like that, you’d be able to get a date.”

Murphy looks sullen. “Whatever.”

The entrée is served soon after, and the conversation moves away from Clarke, though Bellamy’s thoughts never stray from her. He feels unsettled. He wants to go back to thinking of her as a little girl, someone he needs to protect. When had she turned into this gorgeous young woman?

He feels guilty for even noticing. Feels guilty for thinking about sliding his hands under her dress, getting his hands on those magnificent tits Murphy had admired earlier. Yeah, he’s a hypocrite. And kind of a creep too, thinking about her like that, when she looks up to him and trusts him like a brother, when he’s known her since she was twelve years old. But it’s only lust, and he can deal with lust. He’s sure it won’t last long.

Except that even once he’s acknowledged this, once he’s really admitted to himself that he’s attracted to her, he still feels this churning in his gut that he can’t quite explain. It gets worse every time he looks to the bridal table and sees Clarke laughing with Wells. Jaha calls the two of them for their first dance, and Ed Sheeran’s _Perfect_ starts playing. As Bellamy watches, he feels that twist in his stomach again. Almost like… jealousy?

He wonders if maybe he does want to get married after all. If he wants what Clarke has with Wells. A best friend, a lover, a soulmate. His stomach flips over.

Jaha calls for other couples to join Clarke and Wells on the dance floor, and Bellamy looks to Roma.

“You want to dance?” he asks her.

She shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

He takes her hand and leads her onto the dancefloor, followed by Miller and Jackson, leaving Murphy alone at their table with a sour look on his face.

Bellamy takes Roma in his arms, and they kind of sway to the music together, but he’s not really all there.

“Are you okay?” Roma asks him. “I feel like you’re miles away.”

Bellamy shrugs. “Yeah,” he says. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitates. “I guess I was thinking about marriage. You ever think maybe you want to get married one day?”

Roma raises an eyebrow. “You’re not proposing, are you?”

Bellamy laughs. “No. Just thinking out loud. Seeing Clarke with Wells… I don’t know. Maybe I want that. Maybe it’s time to stop just messing around. Like, I’m twenty-eight and I’ve never had a serious relationship. That’s pretty sad, don’t you think?”

“Not if that’s what you want,” Roma says. “But if you want a serious relationship, maybe you should try to have one.”

Bellamy studies Roma for a moment. “Would you want to—”

“Not with me.”

Bellamy laughs, and Roma grins. “Okay,” he agrees. “Not with you. So I guess this is it for you and me?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d still take me home and fuck me after this. You don’t need to get serious right away, right?”

Bellamy grins wolfishly. “No, I suppose not.”

The song ends, and Roma pulls away from him. “I’m going to get another drink. You want one?”

Bellamy glances over at Clarke, now chatting with Miller and Jackson. Bellamy spots Wells leaving the dance floor. “No, I’m good.” Roma nods and leaves him on the dance floor. Bellamy walks over to Clarke as the band starts playing the next song. A song he actually recognises this time: _Slide_ by the Goo Goo Dolls, an acoustic cover.

Clarke spots him over Jackson’s shoulder, and beams at him. Bellamy can’t help but beam back at her. Jackson seems to realise she’s not listening to him anymore and trails off.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says.

“Can I have this dance?” Bellamy asks her, holding out his hand. Miller and Jackson part so that Clarke can get through, and she takes Bellamy’s hand. He spins her under his arm before pulling her close. “Congratulations,” Bellamy says. He’s trying not to think too hard about his hand resting heavy on her waist.

“You said that already,” Clarke says.

“It was rushed before.”

“Are you having a good time? Your date is very pretty.”

“She is,” Bellamy says. “Not as pretty as you though. You look beautiful.”

Clarke ducks her head, bashful. “Thanks.”

“And you seem happy.”

“I am happy. Wells is… perfect.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “Perfect, huh? Well, I’m very happy for you. You found the one perfect person on the planet.”

“Shut up,” Clarke says, her words void of any heat. “I know you think you’re not the settling down type, but when you find your soulmate, you’ll think they’re perfect too.”

Bellamy eyes her with amusement. “Okay, if you say so.”

“I do.”

Bellamy nods, trying to ignore that twisty feeling in his stomach. “Here’s a question for you,” he says, changing the subject. “Why did you invite Murphy?”

Clarke laughs. “Oh, we felt sorry for him. We knew all his friends would be here and we didn’t want him to feel left out.”

“And Wells agreed to this? Even after Murphy keyed his car?”

“Water under the bridge,” Clarke says. “That was what? Two years ago? I’m sure Murphy has grown up since then.”

“I’m not so sure about that. He thinks you invited him because you have a thing for him. As if you would invite someone to your wedding that you have a _thing_ for,” Bellamy laughs.

“Totally,” Clarke agrees, though she doesn’t laugh with him, and her cheeks turn a little pink.

“ _Do_ you have a thing for him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Clarke huffs. “It’s _Murphy_.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says, amused.  

Someone taps Bellamy on the shoulder, and he turns to see Wells standing there. “Can I borrow my wife for a moment?”

“Ooh, I like it when you call me your wife,” Clarke says. Bellamy drops his hands and steps back, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Of course,” Bellamy says easily. “Congratulations again.” Wells gives him a nod and leads Clarke off the dance floor, a hand on the small of her back. Bellamy watches them go, that lump back in his throat. The band is playing something different now, back to more modern songs Bellamy hasn’t managed to keep up with.

“Yo!” Octavia says, startling him as she shoves him with her elbow.

“Fuck,” Bellamy says. “You’re frightening.”

Octavia hands him a glass of champagne. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“What happened to your hair?”

“Got it caught in a tree branch while we were taking photos. Lucky we were pretty much done by then.”

“Did you _climb_ the tree?”

“I thought it would look cool.” The two of them take a sip of their respective drinks in unison. “I can’t believe Clarke is married,” Octavia says. “And to _Wells_.”

“Aren’t you happy for her?”

“Yeah, of course. I just never took her seriously when she said she was going to marry him. Like… he’s the only guy she’s ever been with. She’s never going to get to fuck anyone else.”

“And I’m done with this conversation.”

“Don’t be such a prude. I just mean… she has so much more of the world and herself to discover. I was hoping going to college would make her see that, but of course she and Wells had to go to the same one. I feel like she’s settling.”

“You think Wells will hold her back?”

“Maybe. Don’t you?”

Bellamy shrugs. He does, but he doesn’t want to say it out loud. “It’s her life. She gets to fuck it up however she wants.”

“That’s not what you said when I asked you if I could get a tattoo.”

“I’m your legal guardian. I have to be more responsible when it comes to you. Plus, you’re over eighteen now, I can’t stop you.”

“I know,” Octavia grins. “I got the tattoo the day after my eighteenth birthday.” Bellamy rolls his eyes. That’s just typical Octavia. “Clarke has one too.”

“Oh?” he says, his interest piqued. “Where?”

Octavia raises an eyebrow at him, amused. “You’ll never know,” she winks and then she backs away, looking coy. Bellamy downs the rest of this drink.

The night winds down, and Jaha gathers everyone in a circle on the dance floor so that Clarke and Wells can say goodbye to everyone before they leave. Bellamy is last, and he watches as the two of them hug everyone, both of them a little drunk and on a high. When they get to him, Wells shakes Bellamy’s hand, and then Clarke pulls him into a hug and presses a kiss to his cheek. His heart stutters. No one else got a kiss.

Then Wells is pulling her away, but she doesn’t let Bellamy go until the last second. Bellamy gazes after them, and though he knows they’ll be back from their honeymoon in a week, he can’t help but feel like he’s going to miss her. Which is dumb, because he barely sees her while she’s at college anyway.

He turns to Roma. “Ready to go?” he asks her. She nods, and the two of them head outside to wait for their Uber in silence. Roma is the one to break it.

“You know, I changed my mind,” she says. “I think I’m just going to go home. I’m kind of tired.”

“Oh, okay. Sure.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s really fine,” Bellamy assures her. He’s actually pretty tired himself, and he’s surprised at the relief he feels when Roma says she wants to go home.

“I did have a good time though. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Yeah, no problem. It was fun.”

The Uber pulls up in front of them and Bellamy takes a step towards it, hesitating. There are other guests from the wedding milling around, but he still doesn’t really want to leave Roma on her own.

“Do you want me to wait with you?”

“I’m fine,” Roma assures him. “I’ll go and talk to Miller while I wait.”

Bellamy nods. “Well. Bye, then. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Probably,” Roma smiles. “Good luck. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Bellamy nods and gets into the Uber. Truthfully, he has no idea what he’s looking for. But he does know it’s time to find out.


	2. Boyfriend Material

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've got 11 chapters of this thing written out of an estimated 15. Updating weekly for now, at least until the whole thing is written, then maybe twice a week. Enjoy!

Bellamy assumes finding someone to date him will be easy. After all, he finds it easy to find someone to have sex with him. He figures there are just as many women looking for relationships as there are looking for hook ups. More, maybe.

He starts with Tinder, because he’s always had luck there. He keeps his profile mostly the same, only deleting the phrase _not looking for anything serious_ from his bio. He gets just as many matches as before, and on the surface, most of the women he matches with seem like they’d be great. Except when he gets talking to them, he finds himself bored. He’s purposefully trying to be less flirty, ask more questions about their lives instead of throwing out pick up lines. But he doesn’t care about the responses, and he doesn’t love the idea of sharing more about himself either. Maybe he’s not really ready for a real relationship after all.

He goes on a few dates, but none of them amount to much, and he has to concede that Tinder isn’t the answer. He tries other dating sites, and he tries getting Miller and Murphy to set him up, but Miller claims he doesn’t know any single women that are into men, and Murphy doesn’t know any women that trust him. Bellamy begins to wonder if it’s worth all the effort.

By the time summer comes back around, and it’s been almost a year since he started with this whole dating endeavour, he’s no closer to having a girlfriend than when he started.

“At least you’re still getting laid though, right?” Murphy says, after Bellamy has finished complaining. He’s invited Murphy and Miller around for drinks, to celebrate the end of the school year. He’s not even going to think about a lesson plan for at least another month. In a couple of days, Octavia will be back home for the summer, and Bellamy is looking forward to having her back, but he’s also making the most of having the house to himself.

Truthfully, Bellamy’s life always feels a little emptier without Octavia, and Clarke, around. The first year they both went off the college they left a big gaping hole in his life, that he still hasn’t been able to fill. Although, with them both being away at college in New York, he does have a lot more time to himself to just relax, which is nice. And he doesn’t have to try and sneak women in and out of the house, the way he had when Octavia was living there. Trying to be a responsible guardian while also having your own life is hard.

Still, whenever either of them, or both of them, come home, he has to tone down his excitement so they don’t think he’s a lonely old weirdo whose only friends are his sister and his sister’s friend. Octavia comes home for Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and the occasional random weekend when she’s had enough of her roommate and needs a break. But Clarke has her own family to spend the holidays with, and a husband now, so he really doesn’t see her that much. She doesn’t come home for the entire summer like Octavia does, because while Octavia is living in the dorms during the school year, Clarke and Wells are renting a fancy apartment together.

Bellamy snorts in response to Murphy’s question. “Yeah, I’m still getting laid. That’s not the point though.” He takes a swig out of his beer bottle. The three of them are outside in the back yard, on the weathered wooden furniture set that has been there since before Bellamy’s mom died. He keeps the grass short and watered, but there’s no garden to be seen. 80s rock music plays from Murphy’s phone and the sun is starting to set.

“I don’t see how two reasonably attractive straight guys can’t find someone to date,” Miller snorts. “Shouldn’t it be easy?”

“You would think,” Bellamy huffs.

“I’ve actually been seeing someone,” Murphy says smugly. Bellamy and Miller stare at him. Bellamy couldn’t be more surprised if Murphy had said he’d decided to quit his job as a car salesman and become a goat farmer instead.

“But women don’t like you,” Bellamy says.

“I have feelings, you know.”

“Do you?” Miller squints at him.

Murphy huffs. “Yes. Look, I thought about what Bellamy said to me last year at Clarke’s wedding. About how I talk about women. And I decided he was right and I’ve been trying to change.”

Bellamy tries to remember the last time Murphy said something derogatory or overly sexual about a woman, and he finds he can’t think of anything. “Wow,” he says. “That’s really big of you.”

“I’m kind of pissed you guys didn’t notice,” Murphy says sullenly.

“Don’t be like that,” Bellamy grins, giving Murphy a nudge with his elbow.

“Yeah, come on,” Miller says. “What’s her name?”

“Emori.”

“And you’ve been seeing her how long?”

Murphy shrugs. “A few weeks.”

“Can’t believe you kept this a secret,” Bellamy says, grinning. “Does she have any friends she can set me up with?”

“Not everything is about you.”

“He’s right, you know.” Bellamy looks up towards the house, towards the sound of the voice, and Miller and Murphy turn their heads too.

Bellamy grins. “Clarke,” he says. She’s standing in the doorway in a pair of denim shorts and a tank top, Aviators pushing her blonde hair back. She beams at him as he gets up, leaving his beer on the table. He pulls her into a hug and she practically leaps into his arms laughing. “What are you doing here?” Bellamy asks as he pulls away.

She shrugs, shoving her hands into her back pockets. “Thought I’d come and visit.” She glances over at Miller and Murphy. “Hi, guys.” Miller nods and Murphy raises his beer in her direction.

“You want a drink?”

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “You don’t care that I’m not twenty-one?” He grimaces. He’d forgotten.

“Right.” If it were Octavia, he wouldn’t give her one, even though he knows she’s probably getting wasted every second night while she’s at college.

“Let her have one, Bellamy,” Murphy yells. “It’s just beer. It’s not like she’s never had beer before.”

“He’s right.”

Bellamy sighs. “Fine. In the fridge.” Clarke skips inside while Bellamy returns to his chair.

“Bring me one too!” Murphy yells after her. The three guys sit in silence until Clarke returns with four beers. She hands them out before perching on the table cross-legged, facing Murphy, inadvertently making herself the centre of attention. There was once a fourth chair that went with the patio set, but it broke years ago when Octavia was trying to learn parkour and landed on it too hard. She also broke her arm in the process.

“Octavia’s not here?” Clarke says. Bellamy feels a swell of disappointment that she’s not really here to see him. He’s also surprised Clarke doesn’t know that Octavia’s not here.

“She’s not coming back for a few more days. Figured you would have known.”

Clarke shrugs, taking a sip of her beer. Bellamy probably watches her lips a little too closely. “We haven’t talked much lately. We’ve both been kind of busy.”

“She has a boyfriend, doesn’t she?”

Clarke grimaces. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Why, what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing,” Clarke says quickly. “He’s just… older.”

“How much older?”

“A bit.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. He’ll interrogate Octavia about it later, but right now he doesn’t feel like getting in a mood about it.

“Well, sorry she’s not here,” Bellamy says.

“It’s okay. I came to see you anyway. Just figured it would be a bonus if she were here too.” She turns her attention to Murphy. “Did I hear before that you have a girlfriend?” She moves so that she’s lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, legs in the air.

Bellamy only half listens to Murphy tell Clarke all about Emori. He sips his beer, eyes roaming over the large expanse of bare skin she has showing. Her back, her legs, her cleavage. He still can’t see her tattoo. Could be on her lower back, or her stomach. Could be on her ass. His attention lingers there, and it’s only because he’s half drunk already that he lets himself enjoy the way her shorts ride up, revealing more of her ass cheeks than they’re meant to.

His hand drops to his crotch, trying to readjust himself surreptitiously. He meets Miller’s eyes over the table, giving him a curious look. Miller smirks against the neck of his beer bottle, and Bellamy looks away, flushing.

The night gets dark around them, and the four of them migrate inside. Bellamy falls onto the couch, and Clarke takes the spot beside him.

“I think I’m going to get going,” Murphy says.

“Got to get home to your girlfriend?” Clarke teases.

Murphy rolls his eyes. “I’ve been texting her all night, and she thinks you’re all pathetic.”

“All of us?” Miller scoffs. “Bellamy is the only single one here.”

“You’re pathetic for other reasons.”

“Being single is not pathetic,” Bellamy complains.

“It is when you’ve been trying to get a girlfriend for almost a year now, and the closest you’ve come is three dates,” Murphy says, looking smug. Bellamy glares at him. He hadn’t exactly been advertising to anyone but Murphy and Miller (and Roma that one time) that he was looking for something more serious. It’s embarrassing to be caught trying something and failing at it. Especially when he feels like he should be good at it. Especially when it’s in front of Clarke.

“Yeah, well. I just haven’t found the right person yet,” he says, which only makes him sound more pathetic.

“Whatever. I’m leaving. See you guys when you grow up.”

Bellamy shakes his head as Murphy leaves. “Never thought he’d be the one saying that to us.”

“Yeah,” Miller says, standing awkwardly by the door, as if he can’t decide if he should stay or go. His eyes flick to Clarke, then back to Bellamy. Bellamy frowns at him.

“You going to sit or what?”

“Nah, I should get home too. Jackson wants to go fishing tomorrow and he’ll probably want us to leave early.”

“Okay.”

“Bye,” Miller nods. “Nice to see you, Clarke.”

“You too,” Clarke agrees. Miller leaves, and it’s almost eerily quiet for a moment. “Is it okay if I stay?” Clarke asks. Bellamy turns his head to her. She’s closer than he thought.

“Yeah, of course. You can sleep in Octavia’s bed.”

“I’m not ready to sleep yet.”

“That’s okay. We can just talk for a while,” Bellamy says. “I feel like we talked about Murphy for way too long. What’s up with you, huh? How’s college? How’s married life?” Clarke hesitates, and for the first time that night, Bellamy senses that something is wrong. “Clarke?” he says gently. “Is everything okay?”

Clarke shrugs. “Kind of?” she says. She looks up at him. “It’s just… Wells and I,” she swallows. “I think it’s over. I mean, I _know_ it’s over.”

“Oh, Clarke,” Bellamy says. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He glances at her hand. She’s still wearing her rings.

She nods, but her bottom lip trembles. “Don’t be so nice to me,” she half laughs. “You’ll make me cry.”

“You can cry,” Bellamy whispers. “Come here.” Bellamy wraps his arms around her, and she scoots closer, burying her head into his shoulder. He can hear her weeping softly.

“I haven’t told anyone else yet,” she says, her voice slightly muffled, and strained from tears. “It’s embarrassing. And I know they’re all just going to say _I told you so_.”

Bellamy is very glad he never mentioned to her that he didn’t think she should get married. Not that he would say _I told you so_ anyway. “Even Octavia?”

Clarke nods against his shoulder, then pulls away. Bellamy lets his arms drop. “She told me I was an idiot and that it would never last and that I was wasting the best years of my life.”

This shocks him. Neither Octavia nor Clarke ever told him Octavia said that. “I’m sorry, Clarke. She never should have said that.”

“Well, she was right.”

“Clarke—”

Clarke shakes her head. “It’s okay.”

Bellamy strokes her arm to comfort her. “You want to tell me what happened? Do I need to have words with Wells? Teach him a lesson?”

Clarke manages a laugh, though it’s watery and hollow. “No. He didn’t do anything. I guess… we both just realised we rushed into things. And neither of us knew how hard marriage would be. We weren’t ready.”

“I’m sorry, Clarke.”

“Stop it, it’s not your fault.”

“I hate seeing you upset.”

“It’s for the best,” Clarke sniffs. “He wasn’t the right one for me anyway. If something is meant to be, it will be. This wasn’t meant to be.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says. He doesn’t really believe in fate, or destiny, or soulmates or whatever. But he’s not about to try and take that little bit of comfort away from Clarke.

“I swear I’m okay,” Clarke says, and Bellamy figures he’s still looking at her like she might break into a million pieces. “It’s just kind of sad. But I’m not… ruined or jaded or anything. I still believe in love.”

“I’m glad,” Bellamy smiles. “Can I do anything to cheer you up?”

Clarke wipes her eyes. “Spending time with you cheers me up.”

“I don’t think I’m very good at it.”

Clarke gives him a watery smile. “You’re better than you think. Trust me. Remember after my dad died? I was inconsolable.”

“As you had every right to be.”

“You offered to look after me, as a favour to my mom. You probably don’t remember. You took me to a paper airplane competition,” Clarke remembers fondly. “I thought it was the stupidest thing ever.”

“I remember. I just wanted to take your mind off it for a while,” Bellamy shrugs. He doesn’t bother correcting her about it being a favour to her mom. That he really did it because he couldn’t stand to see Clarke so upset, and because he knew how it felt to lose a parent.

“I made the worst plane of all time. And you showed me how to make one that would actually fly. And you told me that I could close my eyes and throw the plane and that with it a little bit of sadness would fly away with it.”

“Did I say that? How idiotic.”

Clarke laughs, light and tinkling, despite her recent heartbreak. “I didn’t think it was stupid at the time. There was something really great about throwing that plane and watching it fly, and maybe for a moment I did feel a little better.”

“Man, you can tell a thirteen-year-old anything and they’ll believe it,” Bellamy grins.

Clarke gives him an affectionate shove. “You’re the worst.”

“So you’re saying you want to make paper planes now?”

“I’m _saying_ shut up,” Clarke says. “But I’m also saying you’re good at making me feel better. Even if you don’t know it.”

Bellamy gets embarrassed at that. He’s never really been able to take a sincere compliment, not even from Clarke. Especially from Clarke.

“Well… I’m glad you feel better,” he says awkwardly.

“By the way, did I hear Murphy correctly before? Are you actually looking for a proper girlfriend?”

Bellamy rubs the back of his neck. “That may bear some resemblance to the truth. It’s proving more difficult than I anticipated.”

“Well, like you said. You just haven’t found the right person yet.”

“What if there is no right person? Maybe I’m just not boyfriend material.”

“You’re boyfriend material.”

“How would you know?”

Clarke shrugs. “I can tell. You’d be so sweet and caring. Like you were just now with me. And I bet you’d be thoughtful too. And you listen, and you’re not manipulative or controlling. Although you might be a little overprotective.”

“You’re making me blush.”

Clarke laughs. “Trust me. You’re better than like ninety-nine per cent of the men out there. Any woman would be lucky to call you her boyfriend.”

She’s not saying it like she’s trying to flatter him. She’s saying it like she really thinks it’s true. He finds himself getting choked up. For some stupid reason, her opinion means more to him than almost any other person on the planet. She has so much fucking faith in him, she’s so genuine about how great she thinks he is. It takes him aback every time.

She smiles at him, looking up at him with those big blue eyes, so full of confidence in him. He’s left short of breath. The lights are dim, the house is quiet. Her thigh is pressed against his, and his heart beats erratically. They’re alone, and they’re both lonely. His eyes flick to her lips, pink and wet and inviting. If it were anyone else but Clarke, he’d kiss her right now. If he hadn’t known her for eight years, if he weren’t like an older brother to her. If she hadn’t just split with her husband, if she wasn’t sad and vulnerable. If he thought it could ever lead anywhere.

But it would be so stupid. Even if he was sure she’d be into it, which he’s not, it would just be one night of finding comfort in one another, only to regret it in the morning and make everything awkward between them. That’s the last thing he wants. He’d never forgive himself if he lost her friendship.

So all he says is, “Thanks.”

“You’ll find someone,” Clarke assures him. “Like I said, if it’s meant to be, it will be.”

Bellamy smiles at her. She almost makes him believe it. “Maybe,” he says. “Anyway. I think I’m going to head to bed. You going to be okay?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah. Thanks for listening.” She glances down at the rings on her finger. “I hate wearing them still, but I don’t want to take them off until everyone already knows.”

“I get it.”

“Part of me wants to be dramatic and throw them into the sea or something. But the engagement ring is a Jaha family heirloom and Wells would kill me.”

“You could make a replica and throw that into the sea.”

“Seems like a lot of effort. Anyway, it’s not like some tragic ending. We’re still friends. If he cheated on me or something, there would definitely be ring throwing.”

Bellamy laughs. “Well, I hope you never have to go through that.”

“Me too.”

“Goodnight, Clarke,” Bellamy says, standing.

“Goodnight.”


	3. We've Wasted Too Much Time Already

It turns out Jackson’s fishing trip plan was just a ruse, and what actually happened was that Jackson took Miller to the spot they had their first camping trip, and proposed to him.

Miller asks Bellamy to be his best man, much to Murphy’s chagrin. It’s a short engagement, and the wedding is planned in only four months, thanks to the exorbitant amount of money Jackson spends on a wedding planner, as Miller confides to Bellamy at one of their suit fittings. They want the ceremony and reception to incorporate elements of both a western wedding and a traditional Hindu wedding. Bellamy does not envy the wedding planner.

Somehow it comes together, and then Miller is anxiously pulling at the sleeves of his gold sherwani, as they wait in the living room of Jackson’s family’s enormous mansion. Bellamy and Murphy are dressed similarly, though with less sparkles. They’ll all be changing into suits before the reception.

Bellamy puts his hands on Miller’s shoulders. “Take a deep breath,” Bellamy says. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Shut up,” Miller mutters. “I know I’m going to fuck it up, I just know it. And then his parents will hate me.”

“You won’t fuck it up.”

“His parents will probably hate you anyway,” Murphy adds. Bellamy throws him a warning look.

“His parents have already accepted you,” Bellamy says. “And they were willing to sacrifice parts of their culture so that you and Jackson could have your dream wedding.”

Miller nods, swallowing. Somewhere outside, Jackson is probably mounting his white horse and riding from his cousin’s house two doors down, while the guests eagerly await the arrival of the two grooms under the huge white canopy. Bellamy had snuck a look earlier while he was supposed to be getting ready.

“Yeah, I’m only kidding around,” Murphy says. “You’ll be great. And gold is really your colour.”

The wedding planner pops her head in then, to let them know Jackson has arrived and that Miller can enter now.

“So, you’re like… the bride, right?” Murphy asks. Miller glares at him, and Murphy finally shuts his mouth.

Miller takes a deep breath. “Let’s do this,” he says.

Bellamy and Murphy escort Miller outside through the French doors. Rows of friends and family line the carpeted aisle, and at the front, Jackson stands, his parents sitting beside him, and then Miller’s dad, David, on the other side. Bellamy glances at Miller, and it could be his imagination, but he thinks he sees tears in his eyes. Something Bellamy is not sure he’s ever seen before.

The three of them walk down the aisle, and Bellamy grabs Miller’s hand and gives it a squeeze as Miller steps up onto the platform where his husband to be awaits him. Miller glances at Bellamy and they share a smile.

As Bellamy turns to take his place in the front row, he notices Clarke on the Jackson side, sitting with her mom, both of them wearing brightly coloured dresses that aren’t exactly saris, but still kind of blend in with what the rest of Jackson’s family are wearing. He gives Clarke a grin and she beams back at him before he takes his seat.

Jackson places a garland of red and white flowers around Miller’s neck, and then Miller does the same for Jackson. The two of them then sit beside each other, facing their guests, as a piece of material Bellamy is sure has a proper name is brought between them like a curtain, so they can’t see each other.

“This is actually really cool,” Murphy whispers.

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees.

The ceremony is fairly short, shorter than what Clarke and Wells’ had been, the only other wedding Bellamy has to compare it to, and it ends with Miller and Jackson rubbing herbs on one another’s heads, both grinning from ear to ear. Then the veil between them is lifted and they stand, pulling each other close as everyone watching cheers.

Guests throw rose petals as the couple walks back down the aisle towards the house, holding hands. Bellamy’s face hurts from smiling so widely, but he can’t seem to stop. They just look so happy.

“That was real romantic and shit,” Murphy says. “But now it’s time to party.”

Once they’ve changed into their specially tailored, paid for by the Jacksons, navy suits, Bellamy and Murphy head to the ballroom where the reception is already underway. Yes, the Jacksons are _that_ rich. If he thought Clarke and Wells’ wedding reception was extravagant, this is something else entirely. Bellamy is honestly a little frightened.

“There’s a wall made of roses,” Bellamy mutters to Murphy. A group of guests stand in front of the wall of roses, making goofy faces as a photographer snaps pictures of them.

“Rich people scare me,” Murphy says. “I’m going to find Emori.” He scurries away just as a waiter with a tray of full champagne glasses passes, and Bellamy grabs two. He heads for the bridal table, just as one of Jackson’s cousins tells everyone to sit down. Murphy plonks himself beside Bellamy thirty seconds later.

“Did you find Emori?”

“Not yet. There are so many people here.”

Jackson’s cousin announces Miller and Jackson, and they make their grand entrance, Miller in a gold suit and Jackson in red, while everyone cheers for them, _again_. Miller looks supremely uncomfortable with all the attention, while Jackson waves like a celebrity on the red carpet. They head straight for the dance floor for their first dance, to _Can’t Help Falling in Love_. Once they start dancing, Miller seems to forget about all the people watching them.

“Shit, I think I want to get married,” Murphy says.

“You know your wedding wouldn’t look like this.”

“Nah, Emori and I are going to get married in a bar, with a food truck as the caterer,” Murphy says.

“You know, that actually sounds kind of cool,” Bellamy muses. “But it’s freaking me out that you’re already talking about marrying her. It’s been what? Three months?”

“Four,” Murphy says. “What can I say, when you know, you know. And oh, by the way, weren’t you supposed to be looking for a girlfriend?”

“Shut up,” Bellamy mutters.

“Better get cracking, man. Your biological clock is ticking,” Murphy snorts. “Oh, there she is.” Bellamy turns his head in the direction Murphy is looking, and sees Emori sitting on a chair close to the dance floor, on a table with Monty and Harper, and a few people Bellamy doesn’t recognise. She lifts her scarred hand and waves at them.

“I’m going to see if she wants to dance,” Murphy says. He takes a sip from one of Bellamy’s champagne flutes and gets up.

“You dance now?” Bellamy calls after him. Murphy gives him a sarcastic smile over his shoulder, and then promptly forgets all about him, his attention on his girlfriend. Bellamy sighs and downs the rest of the champagne from the glass Murphy had sipped from. He never thought _Murphy_ would be in a proper relationship before he was. He never imagined _Murphy_ would want to get married. And if Murphy and Emori get married, that makes Bellamy the last single one. And that’s just fucking depressing.

Bellamy is happy for his friends, and he honestly doesn’t feel bitter or resentful towards them for finding someone before he did. But he does feel kind of _sad_ about it. Especially as he watches other couples join Miller and Jackson on the dance floor. Murphy and Emori, Abby and Kane, Monty and Harper, Jackson’s parents. Even David Miller is dancing with a woman he clearly just met.

Bellamy downs the other glass of champagne and starts looking around for another waiter. He spots Clarke smirking at him from the next table, and he raises an eyebrow at her. She tilts her head, gesturing for him to come over.

Bellamy gets up, and Clarke sits up straighter as he approaches.

“Clarke,” he says, falling into the seat beside her. “You look nice.” Her bright turquoise dress makes her eyes look even bluer, and the huge pendant nestled between her breasts draws his eyes straight to her cleavage. Big gold hoops dangle from her ears. She hardly ever wears her hair up, and oddly enough, Bellamy finds himself noticing the delicate curve of her neck.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Clarke asks.

“Not sure I’m in the mood.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t blame you.” He’s sure the display tonight can only remind her of her own failed marriage, just as it reminds him of his own failures. “You got a good table though. Table one. How’d you manage that?”

“Mom is basically like a second mother to Jackson,” Clarke says. “So I got put on a table with her and Marcus. They should have put me on a table of singles, that would have been more fun.”

“Ready to move on, huh?”

“Well, you know. Best way to get over someone is to get under someone new, right?” Clarke says. “What about you? How are things on the girlfriend front?”

Bellamy snorts. “Let’s not go there.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I’m destined to end up alone.”

“Don’t say that.”

Bellamy shrugs. “That’s how it feels.” He glances around for a waiter again, before he can start getting too deep. Now is so not the time. “Where is the champagne when you need it?”

“I have an idea,” Clarke says.

“Oh?”

“I mean, weddings are the best places to meet people, right?”

“I guess so.”

“So what if we both try to find someone to go home with tonight?”

“Are we making a pact?”

“It can be a pact if you want it to be a pact.”

Bellamy considers it. “I mean, it can’t hurt. What if one of us doesn’t find someone though?”

“We both have to find someone, or the other person isn’t allowed to go home with the person they found. You _are_ allowed to get their number though,” Clarke says.

It’s weird, but it doesn’t feel weird to be talking to Clarke about this. He used to try and keep his love life away from both Octavia and Clarke when they were younger, and he kind of thought it would always be weird to talk about sex and relationships with either of them. It’s still weird with Octavia. He doesn’t want to know what she’s doing, and she doesn’t want to know what he's doing. But he doesn’t feel that way with Clarke. It’s like talking to Miller, or Murphy. Except with a little less sarcasm.

“Okay. Deal.”

Clarke sits back in her chair, pleased. “So we have to find you a nice, smart, respectable woman, who’s also incredibly dirty in the bedroom. Wife material.”

Bellamy laughs. “I’m glad you know what I’m looking for. And we have to find you a hot guy who knows how to please a woman but isn’t looking for anything serious.”

“Exactly,” Clarke says. She hesitates, wringing her hands on the table in front of her, before adding, “Or girl.” Bellamy gives her a questioning look, unsure what she means for a moment. “I’m bi,” Clarke blurts out.

“Oh,” Bellamy says, his surprise getting the better of him.

“Fuck, this was totally the wrong time to tell you, wasn’t it?”

“No, no,” Bellamy says quickly. He puts his hand over hers reassuringly, smiling. “I’m glad you told me. It’s cool.”

“Being bi, or me telling you that I’m bi?”

“Both.”

Clarke breathes a sigh of relief. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while. To tell everyone. But I keep chickening out. Octavia was… less than impressed.”

Bellamy frowns, his hand tightening on hers. “What?”

Clarke shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. But Bellamy knows that it _is_ a big deal. “She thinks I’m just doing it for attention. She told me it doesn’t count unless I’ve actually been with a woman.”

“Fuck,” Bellamy growls, angry. That’s not the way he raised his sister. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” Clarke says. “It’s not your fault.”

“Feels like it is.”

“Don’t worry,” Clarke says. “She’ll pull her head out of her ass one day.”

“Would you even want to be friends with her after that?”

“If she apologises. Profusely.”

Bellamy shakes his head. He realises he’s been holding her hand for way too long and quickly pulls away. “You’re more forgiving than I am. Have you told anyone else?”

“Just you and Octavia. Mom is next. I’m pretty sure she’ll be okay with it. She’ll probably be surprised though. I just… I wanted to tell you, after the fiasco with Octavia. Because I knew you’d be supportive.”

“I’m always gonna be on your side, Clarke.”

“I know,” Clarke smiles. “Okay, enough about that. We’ve wasted too much time already. We have to narrow down our search.”

“Wait, wait,” Bellamy says. “What happens if neither of us finds someone? We just go home alone?”

Clarke chews her lip thoughtfully. She glances at him, and he tilts his head, questioning. She leans towards him, dropping her voice low. Something tugs low in his gut. Fuck, he never realised how sexy she sounds. “Well… maybe if neither of us finds someone, you and I could—”

“Bellamy!” Jackson’s voice interrupts Clarke’s line of thought. Bellamy could kill him. His heart is beating rapidly. God, was she really going to say what he thinks she was going to say? And did he really want her to say it?

“What’s up, Jackson?”

“Miller told me you were looking to be set up. I know someone who would be great for you, she’s here tonight. Her name is Gina.”

Bellamy glances at Clarke, and she’s smiling encouragingly. No hint of disappointment. Perhaps that sentence wasn’t leading where he thought it was. Or maybe it was, but she was just kidding.

He hates himself a little for even thinking it. For wanting her to want him. For entertaining the thought of sleeping with her for even a second, not just once now but three times. At least. He doesn’t count the few times he dreamt about her. He tries not to think about that.

“Bellamy?” Jackson prompts. Bellamy flushes as he looks back to Jackson.

“Um.” He glances back to Clarke. Part of him wants to just stay and talk to her.

“Go!” she urges. “That’s what we’re here for, right?” she grins.

“Right,” Bellamy says. He focuses his attention on Jackson. “I’d love to meet her.”

“Great! Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Bellamy gets up and follows Jackson across the room, but he can’t resist looking back over his shoulder at Clarke as he goes, wondering what might have happened if Jackson hadn’t interrupted.

Gina is cute, Bellamy has to admit. Pretty brown eyes, curly brown hair, and really soft looking lips. She looks fantastic in her mauve dress too, though it’s not as daring as Clarke’s. She seems serious at first, but then Bellamy starts to notice her smile, subtle but cheeky. Like she’s laughing at him. He’s not sure why, but he likes that. She has a dry sense of humour, and it doesn’t take long until they’re bonding over their love of the outdoors, and their love of books, and Gina is already telling him he will think all his favourites are rubbish once he reads hers.

Truthfully, Gina is fantastic, and Bellamy genuinely likes her. But he can’t help thinking about, well… he glances over to Clarke’s table, not for the first time since Jackson introduced him to Gina. Clarke is talking to a woman now, another friend of Jackson’s, Bellamy thinks. She laughs animatedly. From their body language, Bellamy would say they’re flirting. Clarke clearly isn’t thinking about him, or the moment they shared. Did they even have a moment, or is he inventing one because he wants an excuse to run from Gina? Because he’s afraid, because he likes her and he can already tell this might turn into something good, and he’s already sure he’s going to ruin it somehow.

“Bellamy?” Gina says. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bellamy says, focusing his attention back on her. “Just checking on my friend. She recently went through a break up, I don’t want her moping by herself.”

Gina glances over. “She looks well taken care of.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees. God, he needs to stop thinking about Clarke, or he’s going to fuck this up before it’s even started. This _could_ be something good, but he’ll never know unless he goes for it. If he sabotages himself, he might never forgive himself. “Gina,” he says. Time to just go for it. “Would you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

Gina gives him that sly smile. “Thought you’d never ask.”

They exchange numbers, and Bellamy figures it’s time to ask her to dance. That’s what you do at weddings, right? The dance floor has been packed all night, whether it’s Indian music or American music, and Bellamy still hasn’t set foot on it.

“Actually,” Gina says, smirking. “I was thinking I want to get out of here.”

“Oh. Sure,” Bellamy says. “I’ll call you or text you or something about that date.”

“Bellamy,” Gina deadpans. “I meant with you.”

“Right. Fuck,” Bellamy laughs. “Guess I’m off my game tonight.”

“So?”

“Yeah. Yes!” he says quickly. “Let’s go. Let me just… say goodbye to Clarke first. And Miller and Murphy.”

“I’ll say goodbye to Jackson and meet you outside,” Gina says. Bellamy nods, and Gina gives him a wink as she goes off to find Jackson.

Bellamy finds Miller first, drunk as hell and singing along with his dad to the Bryan Adams song that’s on at the moment, both of them laughing hysterically when they get the words wrong. Bellamy congratulates him again, and lets him know he’s leaving, though he’s not sure Miller actually understands what’s going on.

Murphy is next, and Bellamy finds him making out with Emori at the bridal table.

“Classy, guys,” Bellamy says.

“You’re just jealous it’s not you,” Murphy says, keeping his arm around Emori.

“Actually,” Bellamy smirks. “I’m about to leave with Gina right now.”

“Tick tock!” Murphy reminds him. Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“Have fun,” he says. He doesn’t think Murphy even hears him, and anyway, he’s already focused on table one, where Clarke is still talking to the same woman. He approaches the table somewhat cautiously, not wanting to accidentally walk in on a moment, the way Jackson had earlier.

“Hey,” he says, and Clarke looks up.

“Hey,” she says. She looks happy. He’s glad.

“So, things with Gina are going really well, and I think we’re going to take off,” he says. His eyes flick to the woman she’s with. He doesn’t know how to ask Clarke if that’s okay without either revealing their pact or making it seem like he needs her permission to have sex with someone.

“Okay,” Clarke nods. “This is Niylah, by the way. She’s teaching me about lesbian bars. We might go to one after this.”

Bellamy smiles. Clever. He gets the message. “Okay,” he says. “Have fun.”

“You too,” Clarke says.

Bellamy somehow manages to wrench himself away from her, and meet Gina outside.


	4. The Rest of the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i promise it's going to get more interesting in the next couple of chapters

For a moment, when Bellamy wakes up the next morning, he forgets who’s in his bed. He does a mental run through the events of the night before, which only takes him a second, and he remembers Gina. Gina, he likes Gina. Last night had been fun, although she found his dirty talk more amusing than hot, and ended up telling him to shut up. In a nice way, at least. For the first time, Bellamy finds he actually wants to see her again. It’s a nice feeling.

She’s still asleep, so he reaches for his phone and pulls up Clarke’s name. Their last messages to each other were a month ago, when she asked him if he’d be at the wedding, and he’d replied that he would be. The last message is from Clarke, reading: **_See you there!_**

Before he can stop himself, he types a message to her now.

**Did you have fun with Niylah last night?**

He doesn’t expect a reply right away, but it’s only a second or two before her response comes through.

**_I did! I’ll spare you the details but she’s pretty cool. How did things go with Gina?_ **

**Pretty great. She’s still here. Think I finally managed to find a good one.**

Clarke takes a while to respond this time. Bellamy’s eyes don’t leave the three dots at the bottom of his screen. When he finally gets the message, what feels like years later, all it says is: **_That’s great!_**

Bellamy poises his thumbs to reply, but then he hears Gina stir beside him, and he quickly puts his phone back on the nightstand, just as she cracks an eye open.

“Morning,” she says.

Bellamy smiles. “Good morning.”

“You’re still here. That’s good.”

“It’s my house,” Bellamy reminds her.

“Trust me, if you wanted a way out, you would find one,” Gina laughs.

“I don’t want a way out. I’m hoping you still want to go on that date with me.”

Bellamy’s phones buzzes with a text, and he has to fight the urge to grab it and check it immediately.

“Definitely still want a date,” Gina says, sitting up. “I should get going though. Last night was fun.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees.

“I’ll message you.”

“Okay, sounds great,” Bellamy says. Gina hesitates a moment, before deciding to kiss him. Then she gets out of bed, finds her clothes and gives him a cheeky smile before she leaves. Bellamy scrambles for his phone. It’s Clarke.

**_Coming out to my mom today. Wish me luck._ **

**Good luck! I’m sure it’s going to go great, but if it doesn’t, you know where to find me.**

**_Thanks Bell x_ **

The thing is, Bellamy and Clarke don’t really text that often. He’s not much of a texter. He prefers to speak to people in person, or on the phone if he has to. He just doesn’t think he comes across well in a message. He doesn’t like that he can’t convey tone, that he can’t see the other person’s facial expressions. Any conversations he’s had with Clarke are always initiated by her, last two or three messages, and end when he can’t think of anything else to say.

But after that day, there isn’t a day that passes where he doesn’t get a message from Clarke. Strangely, he grows fonder of texting, and he looks forward to hearing from her. Occasionally he’ll message her first, if he thinks of something he wants to tell her and she hasn’t already messaged him.

Meanwhile, he finds his relationship with Octavia strained. It’s only been a week since Clarke told him what Octavia said to her, and he hasn’t had a chance to speak to Octavia in person about it. He told her over the phone that what she said was Not Cool, and Octavia had responded with, “It’s none of your business what I say to Clarke.” So now he’s not exactly not speaking to her, but he’s also making it clear he’s not happy with her. If she wasn’t his sister, he’d probably cut ties with her completely, but he also knows Clarke doesn’t want to be the reason he and Octavia aren’t on good terms. He doesn’t see it as Clarke’s fault, he sees it as Octavia’s biphobia’s fault.

In the week since Miller and Jackson’s wedding, Bellamy also managed to organise a date with Gina, which happens to be tonight. Oddly enough, he’s not nervous. Maybe because he’s been texting Clarke all afternoon and his mind hasn’t even really been on the date.

**What should I wear on my date with Gina?**

**_Socks at least_ **

**Not sockless?**

**_Socks are sexy, Bellamy. Especially if they have some kind of crazy pattern on them._ **

**Crazy socks, got it. Any other advice?**

**_You don’t need any advice. You got this._ **

Bellamy smiles, and puts his phone down so he can start getting ready. He doesn’t own any socks with crazy patterns, but he might have to invest in some.

He meets Gina at the restaurant she picked, and they spend a couple of hours getting to know each other over food that isn’t all that great. But the company is good, and so is the wine, so Bellamy is willing to forgive the overdone steak he gets. Gina asks him about Octavia, and because he’s mad at her, he kind of just tells Gina the basics, instead of gushing about her like he usually would. That their mom died when Octavia was eleven and he was twenty-one, and he’s been her sole guardian since then. He’s not trying to get sympathy from Gina, and he swears it’s not a line, but he can see it definitely endears her to him.

He finds himself purposefully not bringing up Clarke, though he’s not sure why. He could easily mention her when he’s talking about Octavia, or when Gina asks about his friends. But for some reason he doesn’t want to have to explain his relationship with Clarke to Gina. Even though really, what their relationship is is _friends_.

At the end of the night, Bellamy offers to pay, but Gina insists on splitting, which is fine by him. And then she says she has to go home because she’s looking after her neighbour’s cat, and Bellamy is sure he screwed it up somehow, because that has got to be the worst excuse of all time.

But then she kisses him before she gets into her Uber, and tells him she really _really_ wants to see him again, and he has to assume that Gina’s neighbour is just really weird about their cat.

Bellamy goes home with a stupidly big smile on his face, texting Clarke from the back of the Uber.

**Date went great. Need to get some better socks for next time though.**

He doesn’t hear back from her right away, so he figures she’s out doing something fun with her Saturday night. Either that, or she’s already asleep.

The lights are on when Bellamy gets home, which Bellamy knows can only mean one thing. Octavia is home. He takes a deep breath before he goes inside. She’s sitting on the couch, clearly waiting for him.

“Don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I’m really fucking disappointed in you.”

“Everyone knows that’s worse.”

“Why are you here?” Bellamy asks. He doesn’t make a move to go and sit with her, just stands in the middle of the room, arms folded.

“To apologise.”

“You should be apologising to Clarke. Seriously, O, what is wrong with you? Telling her she’s just looking for attention. Since when has Clarke ever been out for attention?”

“As if her fancy wedding wasn’t a big cry for attention,” Octavia snorts. Bellamy shakes his head, unimpressed. “Not the point,” Octavia says quickly. “Look, I talked to her yesterday and apologised. She’s forgiven me.”

“She didn’t tell me that.”

“I asked her not to. I wanted to talk to you myself.” Octavia stands, seeing as how it’s obvious Bellamy isn’t going to sit. “I’m sorry, okay?” she says. Not something he hears from her often. “I was wrong, obviously.”

“So why’d you say it?”

Octavia shrugs. “When she told me, I just had this knee-jerk reaction. I was annoyed at her for being so sure of it.”

Bellamy frowns, shaking his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does. Look, it’s selfish and whatever, but you already knew that about me. I was annoyed that she figured it out first, when I was still struggling with it. So I lashed out.”

Bellamy stares at her. “Are you saying…”

“Yeah. I’m bi too. Clarke called it _internalised biphobia,_ if you’re looking for a word for it.”

Bellamy isn’t sure how to react. On one hand, what Octavia said was really shitty. But he knows it can be hard to struggle with your own identity, and it’s clear now that Octavia didn’t _mean_ it. Lashing out when she’s confused or angry is kind of an Octavia special. She says a lot of stuff she doesn’t quite mean.

“Come here,” he says, and he pulls her into a hug. “You’re still an asshole, but I’m really proud you admitted your mistake. And I’m proud of you for coming out to me. Must have been hard.”

Octavia pulls away. “Not really. Clarke told me you were really supportive of her when she told you she was bi, so I knew I had nothing to worry about. It’s just the rest of the world.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone you don’t want to.”

“I know.”

Bellamy gives her a smile, and she seems relieved.

“Have you eaten?” he asks her.

“Yeah, I raided your leftovers,” Octavia says. “And now that we have all the boring stuff out of the way, I have something more important to talk about.” She spins around and flops back down on the couch. “My birthday.”

Bellamy laughs, then sits down beside her. “That’s five months away,” he points out. “My birthday is before yours.”

“Yeah, and you’ve already refused to let me throw you a party, even though you’re going to be _thirty_.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Which is why mine is more important. Twenty-one, big brother. I want to go to Vegas.”

“Vegas? Seriously?”

“What? I want to drink and gamble and regret all my decisions for the weekend.”

“Are you inviting me?”

“Yeah. I’ll probably regret it later, but yeah. You can even bring your new girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend yet.”

“She might be by then.”

Bellamy snorts. “Fine. Vegas it is. You know, I’ve never been.”

“I know. That’s why I’m inviting you. Anyway, I’m going to bed now. Will you make pancakes in the morning?”

“Fine.”

Octavia gives him a _you-know-you-love-me_ grin, and then flounces off to her room. Bellamy pulls his phone from his pocket, with the intention of messaging Clarke, and he sees she’s beaten him to it.

**_Glad your date went well! I’ll help you on the sock front._ **

He’s about to respond, but then he changes his mind and decides to call her instead.

“Hey,” she answers, and her voice is all quiet and husky.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“I was just about to go to sleep.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says quickly. “Are you still with Gina?”

“No, she had to check on her neighbour’s cat. Which actually seems like it might be true.” Clarke laughs, and Bellamy smiles at the sound of it. “Octavia’s here.”

“Oh. Did she…?”

“Yeah. She said you forgave her.”

“Well, she apologised profusely, like I wanted. And she cried.”

“She _cried_? I haven’t seen her cry since she was what, fourteen?”

“So you see why I had to forgive her.”

“I guess you’ll be going on her Vegas trip birthday party then.”

Clarke snorts. “It’s such a bad idea. Octavia is going to gamble away all her savings, get a tattoo on her face, then marry some random she meets at the hotel bar.”

Bellamy groans. “Why would you say that? I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“I’m kind of excited though. I’ve never been to Vegas. It’ll be fun, right? You’re going?”

“Got to keep an eye on her. And yeah, I think it will be fun.” A short silence follows, and Bellamy figures it’s time for bed. “Alright, well. Goodnight, Clarke.”

“Goodnight, Bellamy.”


	5. I Just Wanted to Give You This

Clarke turns twenty-one before Octavia does, a week before Bellamy’s thirtieth birthday. Octavia tried to convince her to have a big party, but Clarke has settled on an intimate dinner at her favourite restaurant.

Bellamy gets there right on seven, Gina with him. It’s the first time she and Clarke are meeting, and he’s oddly nervous about it. Gina knows Clarke as his little sister’s best friend, which is the truth. She knows he’s friends with her too, and that he’s almost as close to Clarke as he is to Octavia. She never asked him why he didn’t bring up Clarke on their first date, and he’s grateful for it. He’s not sure he could have given her a good answer.

It’s only Clarke, Abby and Marcus who are already sitting at the table. And some white guy sitting next to Clarke, with hair that he probably spent way too long doing, and an extremely punchable face. Bellamy dislikes him on sight.

“Bellamy!” Clarke says, jumping up from her seat. Bellamy smiles, and Clarke pulls him into a tight hug. It’s over fast, and then Clarke is hugging Gina. “So nice to finally meet you. I’m glad you guys could make it!”

“Happy birthday,” Bellamy says, handing over the small present he bought her, badly wrapped in sparkly blue wrapping paper. He had wanted Gina to help him pick something, but she refused, with the excuse that she doesn’t know anything about Clarke.

“Thank you!” Clarke beams. “I’ll open it later with the others, when everyone gets here.”

Clarke spins around and heads back to her seat, putting the gift in the middle of the table, where a couple of other packages sit, wrapped much more nicely than Bellamy’s. Bellamy pulls out a chair for Gina, shrugs his coat off, and sits down beside her, down the other end of the table from Clarke. She’ll probably want to spend most of the night talking to her friends, not him.

“I’m Finn, by the way,” the new guy says. “Clarke’s boyfriend.”

Bellamy’s stomach churns, and he does his best to keep his face neutral. His jaw ticks. He can already tell this Finn guy isn’t good enough for Clarke. Bellamy gets bad vibes from him. He’s the kind of guy who everyone thinks is _nice_ and _friendly_ but he turns out to be an emotionally manipulative piece of shit. Bellamy has no proof of this, however, so he gives Finn a forced smile.

“Bellamy,” Bellamy returns. “My girlfriend, Gina.” Bellamy eyes flick to Clarke. “Clarke never mentioned you before.” Clarke looks away, uncomfortable, and Bellamy looks back to Finn.

Finn shrugs. “Guess she didn’t think you needed to know.”

Bellamy would sincerely like to know what the fuck that means. He doesn’t get the chance to find out. A group of people arrives, Octavia leading them. Harper, Monty and Jasper form the rest of the group, and bringing up the rear is Wells. Bellamy is a little surprised to see him, despite Clarke’s assurance that the two of them had remained friends.

Clarke gets up to greet her friends, and introduces Finn to everyone. No one else seems surprised by his existence. Bellamy wonders how long Clarke has been seeing him, and why she didn’t tell Bellamy about him, despite the fact that she’s still texting him almost every day. Messages like, _I got an A on my assignment!_ Or _would you rather live in Westeros or Narnia?_ Never, _hey Bellamy, by the way, I have a boyfriend!_ Perhaps she knows Bellamy wouldn’t approve of him.

Wells takes the seat next to Bellamy, though he seems hesitant about it. “Hey,” he says. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Bellamy nods in return. “How are things?”

Wells shrugs. “Okay. You probably think it’s weird that I’m here, right?”

“Nah,” Bellamy says. “Clarke said you guys were still friends. I’m glad.”

Wells looks to Clarke. “She seems like she’s doing great. Though I’m not sure I’m a fan of her new boyfriend.”

Bellamy can appreciate that sentiment. “She told you much about him?”

“Not really. We don’t talk that much anymore. He just _looks_ like a dick.”

Bellamy snorts out a laugh. He agrees, obviously. But he promised Clarke he’d always be on her side. And if she wants to date some douchebag for a few weeks, that’s her choice. All Bellamy can do is look out for her, and be there for her when it falls apart. “Yeah,” he says. “But it’s not your place to say anything.”  

“You could say something though. You’re not her ex.”

“So what?”

“I mean, you see it, right? Like everything he does is a performance.”

Bellamy shrugs. “It’s probably just a rebound fling.”

“Maybe.”

A waiter approaches the table then, and their conversation is cut short. Bellamy reaches for a menu, and angles himself towards Gina, away from Wells. He doesn’t want to talk about Finn anymore. Just the guy’s name makes Bellamy grit his teeth, and he hasn’t even had a proper conversation with him.

Bellamy doesn’t try to join in on the conversation too much, instead listening to his sister prattle on, or Jasper tell stories he thinks are funny, while everyone else laughs politely.  

Finn keeps his arm around Clarke the whole night, and it leaves a sour taste in Bellamy’s mouth. He’s very affectionate with her, constantly touching her arm, or her hair, or kissing her out of nowhere. Bellamy can’t tell if Clarke likes it or if she’s embarrassed by it.

Gina bumps against Bellamy’s arm and he turns to find her looking at him, not exactly disapproving, but maybe like she’s judging him a little.

“What?” Bellamy says.

“You need to stop glaring at him. You don’t even have any reason to dislike him.”

“Just look at his face,” Bellamy says.

“You can’t judge someone by how they look.”

“Why are you being so reasonable?” Bellamy huffs. He just wants to hate Finn in peace.

Gina laughs. “Bellamy. I know she means a lot to you and you want to protect her. But she’s a big girl. She obviously likes him and she can make her own decisions.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bellamy sighs. “I hope I’m wrong about him. I just don’t want her to get hurt again.”

“I know.” Gina leans in to give him a light kiss. Someone calls for Clarke to open her presents then, and Bellamy turns his attention back to the birthday girl.

“Mine first,” Octavia says, pointing to one of the presents in the middle of the table. Clarke picks it up, unwrapping the paper carefully, trying not to rip it. She peels back the paper, only to quickly fold it closed again, her face turning red.

“Oh my god, Octavia,” Clarke says. “You couldn’t have waited until later to give me this?”

Octavia is absolutely cackling. “Where’s the fun in that?” She addresses the rest of the table. “It’s a vibrator, by the way, guys. With a remote control.”

Bellamy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his face burning. He really doesn’t want to think about Clarke with a vibrator. Octavia and Finn seem to be the only ones who _aren’t_ uncomfortable.

Monty clears his throat. “Here, open mine and Harper’s,” he says, passing the gift down the table. Bellamy is relieved to find it’s just a bunch of eco-friendly products like reusable straws.

“Thanks, Monty,” Clarke says. Bellamy is sure she’s more grateful for the intervention than the actual gift itself.

She opens Finn’s gift next. It’s a necklace. A silver chain with a small heart pendant on it. Clarke eyes it happily, and lets Finn clasp it around her neck.

“Jewellery from the boyfriend, classic,” Jasper says. Finn’s gift, and Jasper’s words, make Bellamy feel self-conscious about his own gift to Clarke. Is it too much? Are you not supposed to give a girl jewellery if she’s not your girlfriend? Is that a rule? He’s suddenly wishing he got her something else. A book, maybe. She likes reading. Or some paint. An artist can never have too much paint, right? Or maybe a bottle of wine, since she’s twenty-one now.

He prays for his gift to go unnoticed, for her not to open it in front of all these people. But she reaches for it next, and he knows he can’t stop her. He tells himself it’s just a stupid necklace. No one here is going to read anything into it, because there’s nothing to read into.

She unwraps the jewellery box and lifts the lid. She stares at it for too long, and Bellamy knows it’s absolutely the stupidest present of all time. Clarke lifts the gold necklace out of the box.

“It’s a paper plane,” Bellamy says awkwardly.

Clarke nods, then meets his eyes. “I see that.” The rest of the table is eerily silent. Or perhaps that’s Bellamy’s imagination. Regardless, he wants to die. “Thanks,” she smiles. She puts it back in the box, and sets it aside, before reaching for another gift. Bellamy finally remembers to breathe. She hated it. That’s fine. It was silly anyway. She probably doesn’t even get the paper plane reference. That’s fine too. It’s probably better if she just forgets he even gave it to her.

Clarke finishes opening her gifts, and then the waiter brings out the cake, as everyone sings happy birthday loudly and out of key. The cake is cut, and everyone returns to their own conversations. Bellamy decides it’s time for him and Gina to make their departure.

“Ready to go?” he whispers to her. Gina nods. Bellamy looks back to Clarke, giggling with Finn, looking at him with her eyes all soft and full of affection, while he pretends not to be able to find the icing on his chin. Bellamy watches as Clarke leans in and licks it off Finn’s face. Bellamy rolls his eyes. He knows he should say goodbye to Clarke, but he really doesn’t want to interrupt the sickening display.

“Let’s go,” he says to Gina. He leaves some money on the table for his and Gina’s meals, grabs his coat, and they quietly slip away. He glances over his shoulder as they go. No one seems to have even noticed he’s gone.

It’s freezing outside, and Bellamy and Gina hurry to his car, hugging their coats around them. He unlocks the car, and just as he opens the door, someone calls out to him.

“Bellamy, wait!” He turns to see Clarke standing in front of the restaurant, shivering, her arms folded across her chest. She hasn’t got her coat on, and her arms are bare. The slight breeze catches in her hair. Bellamy looks over the car to Gina.

“I’ll just be a second,” he says. Gina nods and gets into the car. Bellamy walks back over to Clarke. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing,” he scolds half-heartedly.

“I just wanted to give you this,” she says, handing him a package wrapped in brown paper. Bellamy glances up from the package.

“What is it?”

“Um,” she says. “I know you didn’t want to make a big deal out of your birthday. But I got you something anyway. Just open it before I freeze to death.”

“Sorry,” Bellamy chuckles, pulling at the paper. He pulls out three pairs of socks, each with a different ridiculous and brightly coloured pattern on it. He laughs. “Socks.”

“In case Gina is getting bored of your regular socks,” Clarke says.

“Thanks,” Bellamy says. “I love them.”

Clarke grins. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“And… thanks for the necklace,” she says. Her smiles drops, and she glances at her feet.

“It was stupid. Sorry. I just saw it and I remembered what you said about that day… with the paper planes,” he shrugs. “You don’t have to wear it. You can give it away if you want.”

Clarke shakes her head. “No. I really like it. I promise.”

“Okay,” Bellamy nods, feeling awkward all of a sudden. Clarke shivers, and she hugs her arms tighter around herself. Bellamy flushes as he notices her hardened nipples, pressing insistently against the fabric of her dress. He should _not_ be noticing that. “Go inside,” he says. “Or you’ll freeze.”

“Always looking out for me,” Clarke says. “Okay, I’m going. Thanks again.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Clarke nods. She looks about to go, but then stops, putting her arms around his neck to pull him in for a last hug. Bellamy’s arms wrap around her waist tightly. He’s not sure why he doesn’t want to let go. She pulls away eventually, and shoots him a smile before hurrying back inside.

Bellamy returns to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting it up.

“What was that about?” Gina asks.

“Just giving me a birthday present,” Bellamy says, showing her the socks.

“Socks?” Gina says, confused. “She ran out here in the cold to give you socks? Weird socks, I might add.”

“It’s—” Bellamy starts, but then realises it’s pointless trying to explain it to Gina. “Never mind. I just like socks.”

“Okay,” Gina says, amused. “I guess she knows you pretty well then.”

“I guess she does.”


	6. Try Your Luck

Bellamy is relieved when he and Gina finally make it to their hotel room. He’d spent the whole flight to Vegas regretting his decision to even come. He’s pretty sure Octavia only invited him out of obligation, and she’d probably be much happier if he stayed home.

“We should just stay in our room and order room service,” Bellamy says. “I think I’m too old to be getting drunk with a bunch of twenty-one-year-olds.”

 “Come on,” Gina says. “We’re in Vegas. We have to at least have one drink, and maybe play a bit of poker.”

“I’m terrible at poker.”

“Roulette?”

Bellamy sighs. “Maybe.”

“Dinner first,” Gina says. “Then you can decide whether or not you want to hide up here for the rest of the night.”

“Fine,” Bellamy agrees, knowing Gina is being perfectly reasonable. The two of them shower and change, before meeting the others down in the hotel restaurant. They’ve been there a few hours, and Bellamy suspects they’re all a little drunk already.

“Bellamy!” Octavia yells, as he sits down across the table from her. “I really thought you wouldn’t come.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Bellamy says.

“Shut up and have a drink,” Octavia says, poking her tongue out. Bellamy rolls his eyes, and then they come to rest on Clarke, totally by accident. She’s looking at him, amused, like she can tell he doesn’t want to be here and she thinks it’s hilarious. Next to her is her stupid fucking boyfriend, Finn. Bellamy scowls.

The rest of the table is made of Clarke and Octavia’s usual group of friends, Monty, Harper, Jasper, and a girl that appears to be Jasper’s girlfriend. No Wells, but strangely, that woman Clarke hooked up with at Miller’s wedding, Niylah, is there. And no sign of a boyfriend of Octavia’s. Either they broke up, or Octavia is more invested in keeping Bellamy in the dark about her dating life than he thought.

Dinner is actually pleasant, much to Bellamy’s surprise. Everyone is drunk enough to keep the conversation flowing, but not so drunk they’re acting completely ridiculous. Yet. Bellamy doesn’t doubt that Octavia plans to spend this whole weekend completely off her face. Her actual birthday was on Wednesday, and she’s already complained twice that she’s been twenty-one for two days and hasn’t been drunk yet.

“Okay, who’s feeling lucky?” Octavia says, once their meals are finished and paid for. “Because I’m in the mood to lose all my money. Or win big, but I’m fine either way.”

Everyone else seems keen to head to the casino, but Bellamy isn’t really feeling it. He hates the idea of wasting money, and luck has never really been on his side. Gambling just isn’t his thing.

“You want to go to the casino, babe?” Gina asks, while the others gather their things.

“Not really,” Bellamy says. “I mean, I’ll come, but I think I’ll pass on the actual playing.”

“Okay,” Gina says. “If I win big, I’ll share with you,” she grins.

Bellamy laughs. “Well, I won’t say no to that.”

The group heads to the casino, and Gina gives Bellamy a kiss on the cheek before she snags a spot at a blackjack table. Bellamy heads past the slot machines to the bar. He takes a seat on a barstool, and orders a whiskey on the rocks. There’s hardly anyone else at the bar, and he has his drink in front of him in record time.

“I’ll have one of those too,” Clarke says as she slides onto the stool next to him.

“Not going to try your luck?’ Bellamy asks, sipping his drink.

Clarke shrugs. “I’m not really into gambling. Octavia tried to drag me into roulette but I just don’t get the appeal.”

“And Finn?” Bellamy asks. He’s immediately annoyed at himself for bringing him up. He doesn’t want to accidentally let Clarke know how much he hates Finn, or have to try to explain _why_ he hates Finn.

“Slot machines.” She nods over to where Finn is sitting at a machine, facing away from them. The bartender sits Clarke’s drink down in front of her. She picks it up, and just as she gets it to her mouth, she jumps slightly, gasping, spilling half her drink onto her cleavage.

“You okay?” Bellamy frowns, as Clarke puts her drink down and grabs a few napkins from the dispenser on the bar.

“Ummm,” she hums, dabbing the whiskey from her chest. Finn’s necklace dangles between her breasts. Bellamy averts his eyes, realising he’s watching a little _too_ intently. “Yeah,” she says. “I’m— _oh._ I’m okay.”

She puts the napkins on the bar, and crosses her legs tightly, looking over to Finn. Bellamy follows her eyes and sees Finn looking over, grinning. Bellamy looks back to Clarke. Her face and chest are all flushed. She quickly downs what’s left of her whiskey.

“I should, um—” she cuts herself off with a squeak. “Should—” she drops her head. “Oh my god.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Uh huh.” She looks back over to Finn and gives a small shake of her head.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she says. She’d breathless now, her chest rising and falling heavily. She squirms in her seat, one hand gripping the edge of the bar so tightly her knuckles are white. She gives a low moan.

“Clarke, you don’t look so good,” Bellamy says. “Maybe you should have some water or—”

“I’m fine,” she says. She goes to stand, but her knees buckle under her and she grabs Bellamy’s arm for support. “Fuck,” she says. “Fuck. Oh my god. _Bellamy_ —” she moans. His cock jumps to attention. Her voice is all husky and breathy, and the way she’s writhing and moaning, it’s almost like she’s, well—on the verge of orgasm. His eyes widen. Fuck. _Is_ she?

Bellamy whips his head around to Finn, who’s grinning wickedly. He quickly turns away when he sees Bellamy looking. Bellamy finally realises what’s happening. Clarke must be wearing that fucking vibrator Octavia gave her, and Finn is in control of the remote.

Clarke grips Bellamy’s arm tightly, while his other hand rests on her waist to steady. She’s panting, whimpering, her legs pressed tightly together, her head down. She’s about to fucking come right there in front of him.

Fuck. Fuck. His cock presses against his zipper painfully, and he watches as Clarke squeezes her eyes shut.

“Bellamy,” she says again. “Bellamy, I’m—”

She tilts her head back and her mouth drops open. She’s almost silent as she comes, just a tiny whimper escaping her mouth. He shouldn’t be watching, but he can’t take his eyes off her. His face burns and his heart pounds hard against his ribcage.

Clarke lets go of him abruptly. Her face is flaming and she won’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she mutters.

“Clarke, it’s okay—”

“I have to go,” she says quickly, and then she flees.

“Clarke!” Bellamy calls after her. He watches as she makes a beeline towards Finn, grabbing his arm and dragging him away. Bellamy groans. He deliberates a moment before deciding to follow them. Clarke is clearly embarrassed, but she also seems angry at Finn, and Bellamy wants to be there if she needs back up.

He follows them out into the lobby, stopping when he sees them, hanging back, though he can still here Clarke ranting furiously in a hushed tone.

“I fucking told you not to make me come,” she hisses. “You were just supposed to—” her voice drops, “tease me.”

Finn huffs. “How was I supposed to know you were about to come? It’s not like I’ve ever seen it happen.”

“It was pretty fucking obvious. God, even Bellamy could tell.” She groans. “How am I ever going to look at him again?”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

Bellamy realises he’s been eavesdropping too long, and he makes his way forward, clearing his throat. Clarke looks around, and quickly averts her eyes when she realises it’s him.

“Everything okay?” Bellamy asks.

“Fine, thanks,” Finn snaps. Bellamy’s fist clenches of its own accord. One more word out of Finn’s mouth and he’s going to get hit, and hard. Bellamy ignores Finn and looks to Clarke.

“Clarke?”

“Fine,” she agrees, still not looking at him. Bellamy swallows.

“Clarke—”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Okay. Sure.” Bellamy gives a nod, his jaw tight. He’s pretty sure she’s not fine, but he knows he has to let her handle it herself, no matter how badly he wants to punch Finn. Is it wrong to hope Clarke breaks up with him over this?

Bellamy heads back into the casino. He pays for his drink and Clarke’s, then wanders around the game tables until he finds Gina, still playing blackjack.

“Hey,” he says, kissing her temple. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

“Oh, okay.”

“You can stay, I’ll probably just read for a while.”

“Alright,” Gina agrees. “I probably won’t be here for too much longer.”

“Okay. See you in a bit,” Bellamy says. He gives her another kiss. He wishes she was coming upstairs with him. He’s still hard as fuck and he could use some release. He heads to his room alone. It’s not until he gets there that he realises he’s taken both key cards with him. Rather than go back down and give one to Gina, he wedges the doorstop between the door and the doorframe, leaving it slightly ajar. He then strips down to his boxers and grabs his book from his bag, before sliding into bed, under the covers.

He reads for an hour, or at least he tries to. He’s pretty sure he’s going to have to read all this again tomorrow if he wants to actually understand what’s going on in the book.

His eyes scan the page, but he takes nothing in. He keeps reading the same line over and over, but all he can think about is how he now knows what Clarke looks like when she comes. And he can’t get the image out of his head. Can’t stop thinking about the breathy, desperate way she said his name. Almost like _he_ was the one making her come. He feels guilty for thinking about it, especially since he knows how much it embarrassed her, but his brain won’t let him think about anything else.

He puts his book down, and his hand slips under the sheet, coming to rest on his erection, over his boxers. He moves his fingers slightly, not exactly stroking himself, but just touching, almost subconsciously. He’s not going to jerk off. It’s just that he’s uncomfortable, and the only way he can feel any semblance of relief is to touch himself, just a little.  

He toys with the waistband of his boxers, thinking about Clarke wearing that fucking vibrator in public. Thinking about her coming as she gripped his arm and squirmed in front of him. He wonders if she was wearing panties. He imagines slipping his hand under her skirt to find out, dipping his fingers into her wet pussy. He pushes his hand into his boxers, curling it around his cock.

There’s a loud rap on the door and he starts, hastily pulling his hand from his boxers. “It’s open, babe!” he calls, picking up his book again.

“Did you just call me babe?” Clarke asks, walking into the room. Bellamy jerks upright, his heart pounding.

“Thought you were Gina,” he swallows.

“Right. Gina,” Clarke snorts. Bellamy isn’t sure what that means. He watches her closely as she walks over, and gets onto the bed on her knees.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I had to have maaaaany shots to come here,” Clarke says. She grins. Okay, so she’s drunk. Really drunk, from the looks of her. She crawls over to him and curls into his side, her head on his bare chest. Bellamy’s heart bangs around in his ribcage. He’s grateful for the duvet covering him, hiding his erection from her.

“That was so embarrassing,” Clarke murmurs. “Ugh. But I wanted to explain—”

“You don’t have to explain.”

Clarke’s lips brush his shoulder and his heart spasms. “You smell so good,” she hums. “Is it your deodorant? Aftershave? Cologne. I should make Finn buy it.”

“It’s—”

“Wait. I just remembered. I have to explain.”

“You don’t.”

Clarke sits up, leaning over him, her arm across his chest. His heart hammers wildly. She’s dangerously close to his throbbing cock. Her breasts press softly against his side. “Okay, so Finn—well. I mean, Octavia bought me that vibrator, right?”

Bellamy shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t need to hear this. “Clarke, you really don’t have to—”

“Shhh,” she hushes him, pressing her finger to his lips. Bellamy resists the urge to suck it into his mouth. “See, Finn… he has trouble making me… you know. Orgasm.”

Bellamy’s face is on fire, and he wants to look anywhere but her, but she’s making it so difficult, with her face so close to his, looking right at him. Her hair is all loose and curly, brushing against his chest. His cock aches. She’s all affectionate, and sexy, and in his bed, talking about orgasms, while he tries desperately to keep her from finding out how hard he is. He can’t breathe.

“So we thought we’d try it. You know, me wearing the vibrator and him controlling it. But he wasn’t actually supposed to make me come. He was just supposed to tease me, and then fuck me after.”

“Clarke—” Bellamy says, sounding strangled.

“So, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s fine, Clarke. It’s not your fault anyway, Finn should have stopped.”

Clarke nods, then falls back against the pillow next to Bellamy, and now that she’s not touching him anymore, he can finally breathe, but just barely. He gives himself a moment to try and compose himself.

“Clarke,” Bellamy whispers. “I don’t trust him,” he says. “I don’t like him putting you in situations that make you uncomfortable.”

“It was my idea,” Clarke shrugs.

“He took it too far. He could take other things too far.”

“Stop being so paranoid, you big baby,” Clarke laughs. Bellamy rolls her eyes. Maybe talking to her about this while she’s drunk is a bad idea. He watches her in silence for a moment, while she’s clearly lost in thought.

“I don’t get why it’s so hard for him anyway,” Clarke huffs.

“What is?”

“He really sucks at giving me head. And he’s not so great with his fingers either. Plus, his cock is kind of small.” Clarke sits up again, her eyes wide. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Size isn’t everything.”

“Right,” Bellamy agrees, mostly just to get her to stop talking. He’s definitely not thinking about how _he_ could make her come. Definitely not thinking about how she clearly wants to be fucked good and hard by a big cock. Absolutely not thinking about how he could give it to her.

She bites her lip and lowers her voice. “I bet you’re not small, though, are you?”

Bellamy chokes on the air he’s trying to breathe. “Clarke, that’s—” he swallows. “Really inappropriate.”

She pouts. “I think I’m drunk.”

“You don’t say.”

“Okay. I’m going to go now. I gotta tell Finn I’m not mad at him anymore.”

He doesn’t want her to go. Doesn’t trust Finn around her while she’s drunk. But he can’t _force_ her to stay here.

“Maybe you should sober up a little first.”

“Maybe.” Clarke rolls off the bed, stumbling as she gets to her feet. “Oof. The room is all wonky.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says. “Drink some water, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Clarke smirks. “Whatever you say, sir.”

Bellamy groans out loud. She’s going to be the death of him. She skips out of the room, and Bellamy rolls over, burying his head into his pillow. He’s trying to comprehend what just happened, but all he knows is he’s turned on and hard as hell and it might mostly be to do with Clarke. He doesn’t know what that says about him.

Someone knocks on the door, and he sits bolt upright. He looks over, realising Clarke must have kicked the doorstop away when she came in, as the door is locked into place now. Bellamy gets up, pads over to the door, and opens it.

“You forgot to give me a key,” Gina grins. Bellamy tugs her into the room, not letting her get another word out before he’s kissing her hungrily. She kisses him back and he pushes her against the door, pressing his erection against her. “Someone missed me,” she laughs.

“Stop talking,” Bellamy groans, kissing her again.

“That’s usually my line,” Gina says. “But okay.” She pulls her shirt off, and goes back to kissing him. They make it to the bed, hastily removing their clothes as they go, and Bellamy fucks her harder than he ever has before. He doesn’t think he’s ever come so quickly, or made Gina come so quickly.

“Fuck,” Gina pants as she comes down. Bellamy rolls off her, removing the condom and throwing it in the trash. “That was—something. What were you reading?” She picks up the book. “The Handmaid’s Tale? Please don’t tell me this is why you were so horny.”

Bellamy snorts out a laugh. “No.” He crawls back into bed beside her. “Not sure what it was,” he lies. Gina watches him for a moment, a smile curling on the edges of her lips.

“Bellamy?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you.”

Bellamy swallows. That’s the first time either of them has said it. He smiles, and kisses her. It’s the best response he can give her right now.


	7. Deep Down You Know

Bellamy and Gina are awake at a reasonable time the next morning, and head down to the breakfast buffet. Bellamy assumes all the twenty-one-year-olds will be still in bed, nursing their hangovers.

Bellamy loads his plate up with food and looks around for a spot to sit, when his eyes fall on Niylah. He takes a moment to decide if it’s more awkward to sit with her or to find somewhere else, but then she looks up and waves him over. Bellamy looks to Gina to make sure she’s right behind him before going over to Niylah’s table.

“Hey,” Bellamy says as he sits down. “Niylah, right? We met briefly at Miller and Jackson’s wedding.”

“That’s right,” Niylah says. “You’re Octavia’s brother.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says.

“And I’m his girlfriend. Gina.”

“Probably should have done these introductions last night,” Niylah smiles. “I think we were all a little drunk by the time you guys showed up.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy chuckles. “I didn’t even realise you knew Octavia.”

Niylah raises an eyebrow. “Clarke introduced us. Octavia doesn’t tell you much about her life, does she?”

“I guess not.”

“Speak of the devil,” Gina says. Bellamy looks up and sees Octavia approaching over Niylah’s shoulder with a plate that looks like it’s just got a pile of bacon on it. She falls dramatically onto the seat next to Niylah, groaning. She looks like death.

“I feel like shit,” Octavia says. She picks up a bit of bacon at chews at it before putting it back on her plate.

“You didn’t have to get up,” Niylah says.

“Well, you woke me up when you left and then I had to vomit. And then I was hungry.”

“You guys are sharing a room?” Bellamy says. He supposes it makes sense. Clarke would be with Finn, and Monty and Jasper both have girlfriends too. A look passes between Octavia and Niylah, and then Octavia tilts her head at Bellamy until he gets it. “Oh,” he says, feeling stupid. “ _Oh_. Oh, okay.”

Octavia snorts, and Niylah smiles, while Gina starts laughing. Bellamy grins, laughing along with them. “You could’ve told me, you know,” he says. “I’m not going to threaten her or chase her away or anything.”

“It was more fun to watch you figure it out.”

“You’re the worst.”

Within the next half an hour, Jasper, Maya, Monty, and Harper all appear at breakfast, but there is no sign of Clarke or Finn, and with every minute that passes, Bellamy grows more anxious that she’s not there. What if something happened to her last night while she was drunk? What if Finn did something to her? He never should have let her leave his room.

“Anyone heard from Clarke?” he asks the table, trying to sound nonchalant. She’s probably fine. She had a big night and she’s probably still in bed nursing her hangover, that’s all.

“Nope,” Octavia says, unconcerned. She steals a piece of bacon from Monty’s plate, despite not having finished her own. “Not since last night.”

“When last night?”

Octavia gives him a kind of perplexed look. “Why do you care?”

Bellamy shrugs, realising everyone is looking at him. Is he really the only one worried about Clarke? “I don’t trust Finn. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Octavia says. “Stop being so overprotective.”

Bellamy tries not to sulk as he leans back in his chair. He’s not a fan of being scolded by his sister, even if maybe she is right. Still, he can’t stop worrying about Clarke, and he’s too antsy to sit here and wait for everyone else to finish breakfast, so he gives Gina a look and gets to his feet.

“Someone text me when everyone is ready and there’s a plan for today. I’m going to the gym,” he says.

“We get it, you work out!” Jasper snorts. Bellamy rolls his eyes, but just as he’s about to leave, Clarke and Finn come bounding into the restaurant, hand in hand, practically bursting with excitement. Bellamy’s stomach drops. She’s obviously perfectly fine. Better than fine, even. So why doesn’t he feel at ease?

Clarke barely glances at him, even though from where he’s standing, he should be the first person she sets eyes on. It’s almost like she’s avoiding his gaze.

“Everyone,” Clarke says, addressing the whole table. “Finn and I have some news.” Everyone turns to look at the couple. Bellamy feels like he’s seeing everything in slow motion. He thinks, for a brief moment, before Clarke makes her announcement, that she meets his eyes, and hesitates. But it’s over so fast, it’s possible he imagined it.

“We’re engaged!” Finn says, holding up Clarke’s left hand. On her finger is a tacky piece of metal, with what it probably a hunk of glass in the middle.

“And we want you all to come to our wedding this afternoon!” Clarke adds. The table erupts into cheers. Bellamy feels like he’s been hit with a brick. He’s not really there as the others stand up to congratulate Finn and Clarke. His throat is thick, and he can taste bile.

“Bellamy,” Gina says, nudging him out of his daze. “Are you okay?”

He nods, trying to swallow the lump that’s lodged in his throat. “Yeah, I—I’m fine,” he manages to choke out. It’s so far from the truth, it will be a miracle if Gina believes him. “Let’s go,” he mutters.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate her?”

Bellamy shakes his head. There is no way he’s going to pretend he’s okay with this. He pretended he was fine with her last wedding, and look how that turned out.

“Why wait until this afternoon?” Bellamy hears Octavia saying. “Let’s just go and get ready and do it right now. And then we can spend the rest of the day wasted!”

“Finn?” Clarke says.

“Yeah, why not?” Finn agrees. Bellamy has never wanted to hit someone so badly in his life. He makes do with glaring at Finn, his lips curled in disgust. While everyone is preoccupied, he grabs Gina’s hand and leads her out of the restaurant. No one calls after him, and he figures they’ve managed to go unnoticed.

He doesn’t speak on the way back to the room, and Gina doesn’t try to either. It’s not until they’re safely alone in their hotel room that she breaks the silence.

“Bellamy, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says tersely.

“You’re clearly not.”

He sighs. This isn’t Gina’s fault, there’s no need to take it out on her. “Sorry,” he says. “You know I can’t stand Finn. Clarke barely knows him, she shouldn’t be marrying him.”

“It is a bit rushed,” Gina admits. “But sometimes you just know, right? I mean, you have no proof he’s a bad guy. Just a vibe that no one else seems to pick up on.”

“I guess,” Bellamy says, not because he agrees, but because he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He knows there is nothing anyone can say that will make him change his mind on this.

“What do you want to do today then?” Gina asks. “Since we’re not going to the wedding.”

“Let’s just wait until the others are gone, and then maybe we can go sightseeing or something.”

“Well, there are plenty of sights to see in Vegas,” Gina grins. Bellamy gives her a weak smile. Gina smiles suggestively back at him. “What should we do while we wait?” Gina asks, her voice low and sultry, already advancing on him.

“I think I’m going to take a shower,” Bellamy says quickly. He’s really not in the mood right now. “Alone.”

“Okay,” Gina says, stepping back. She swallows. “Sure.”

Bellamy locks himself in the bathroom and strips off his clothes before getting into the shower. He steps under the burning water, letting it scald his skin for a few moments before turning the cold up. He stands there for god knows how long, feeling numb on the outside, and wrecked on the inside. All he can think about is Clarke marrying that scumbag Finn, and every nerve in his body screams that it’s _wrong, wrong, wrong_.

He slams his fist against the shower wall, not hard enough to break the tiles, but hard enough to hurt his hand. He shakes it off, biting his lip in pain. He shuts off the water, towels himself off and walks back into the bedroom. He doesn’t say anything to Gina. She glances up from her book, but immediately goes back to it when she realises Bellamy’s mood hasn’t improved in the slightest. If anything, his shower just made him angrier.

He gets dressed, and just as he’s pulling his shirt over his head, someone knocks on the door.

“I’ll get it,” he mutters. It’s probably Octavia, come to convince him to come to the wedding. He’s wrong. It’s Clarke.

“Hey,” she says. “Everyone’s ready. You coming?”

Bellamy’s jaw ticks. He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

Clarke frowns, looking hurt. “Why?”

“ _Why_ , Clarke?” Bellamy huffs. He glances at Gina, who’s reading her book and pretending not to listen, then grabs Clarke’s wrist and pulls her out into the hallway, kicking the doorstop into place so he won’t be locked out. “Are you out of your mind?” he hisses. “You can’t marry him.”

Clarke’s face hardens. “Why not?”

“You barely know him! You’ve only been dating a few months. It’s fucking crazy. I thought you were crazy for marrying Wells, and I held my tongue. But this is even worse.”

“You told me you were happy for me and Wells!”

“Well, I lied!”

A look of betrayal crosses Clarke’s face. “What happened to always being on my side?”  

“I _am_ on your side. I’m trying to stop you from making another horrible mistake.”

“Well, thanks for telling me what you really think. But you have no idea what you’re talking about,” Clarke snaps. “I love him, and I’m marrying him.”

“Do you hear yourself right now? You sound like a petulant child.”

“That’s exactly the problem, isn’t it, Bellamy? You still look at me as if I’m a child. It’s time for you to accept that I’m an adult now, and I can make my own decisions.”

“Believe me, I know very well you’re not a child anymore, Clarke,” Bellamy snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You really going to marry someone who can’t even make you come?”

Clarke stares at him in shock for a moment, her face turning red. “That’s none of your business!” she hisses, dropping her voice. Somehow what started out as a hushed argument has turned into a shouting match in a hotel hallway.

“It was my business when you came to my room last night to tell me all about it,” Bellamy reminds her.

“Fuck you. I was drunk.”

“And either you’re still drunk or just completely out of your goddamn mind.”

“Go fuck yourself, Bellamy,” Clarke says. “I don’t want you there anyway.” She doesn’t give him another chance to speak before she storms off.

Part of him wants to call out after her. He can’t stand her being angry with him. His heart aches. But he’s so angry at her too. He can’t believe she’s acting so rashly or that she can’t see that he’s just trying to look out for her. She’s acting like an impulsive child, marrying the first idiotic pretty boy that shows an interest in her. Bellamy can’t fathom the reason.

He pushes the hotel room door open and goes back inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. Gina is sitting on the end of the bed, looking troubled. She stands up.

“I think I should go,” she says.

Bellamy gives his head a shake, confused. “To the wedding?”

“No. Home.”

“ _Why_?” His anger at Clarke gives way to utter bewilderment.

“I don’t know, I’m feeling pretty stupid right about now,” she laughs, though it’s void of any actual humour. “I should’ve realised it sooner.”

“Realised _what_?”

Gina looks up at the ceiling, as if she’s trying to steel herself for what she’s about to say next. She looks back to Bellamy. “You’re in love with Clarke.” She says it with a shrug, like it can’t be helped, her voice wavering. Like it hurts, but almost like she thinks it’s her fault, like she should have seen it coming.

Bellamy swallows. He wishes he could laugh. “I’m not in love with Clarke.”

Gina groans. “You are, and the fact that you don’t even realise you are means you’ve been in love with her so long that it’s just normal. Loving her is like second nature to you.” She doesn’t sound so calm anymore. She’s not angry either. More like exasperated.

“Gina, I—”

“That’s why you’re so upset she’s marrying Finn. Deep down you know _you_ want to marry her.”

“That’s not true, I—”

“I heard everything you said out there. She was here last night, I’m guessing just before I got back and you fucked me harder than you’ve ever fucked me before?”

Bellamy opens his mouth to refute it, but he can’t. He can’t say anything at all.

“Thought as much,” Gina says. “Do you always think about her when you fuck me?”

“No, of course not. Gina. I’m not—I’m not in love with her.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you think you are or not. She’s always going to be more important to you than I am. And you sure as hell don’t love _me_.” Something else he can’t deny. He wants to try to convince Gina to stay, but he doesn’t know how.

“Gina, please. Don’t go.”

Gina shakes her head. “I meant what I said last night,” she whispers. “And it’s really hard for me to just walk away from this. But I deserve better than that.” A tear rolls down her cheek, and Bellamy’s heart lurches. He really is the worst person on the planet. “You should probably go while I pack up my stuff. I won’t be long.”

Bellamy nods, knowing there’s nothing else he can say to make Gina change her mind. He feels hollow. He drags his feet towards the door and out into the hallway. He doesn’t cry, though he probably will later. It’s all too much of a shock right now. How has he managed to lose two of the most important people in his life in the space of ten minutes?

He can’t think about it right now. He doesn’t want to dwell on Gina’s accusations, or the hurt behind Clarke’s eyes, even through her anger. He does the only thing he can think to do, despite it not even being eleven. He drags himself to the bar to drown his sorrows, and maybe later, or tomorrow, he’ll be better equipped to handle his own breaking heart.


	8. To the Sea

Octavia texts Bellamy pictures all throughout Clarke and Finn’s wedding. Bellamy doesn’t open them. He gets a notification that Jasper has started a livestream on Instagram too, but he doesn’t check it. He wants to pretend it isn’t happening.

The alcohol doesn’t help. It makes his head foggy, but his stupid heart still knows something is wrong. He plans to stay at the bar all day, until he passes out or the bartender stops serving him. But then Octavia shows up. She’s alone, thank god. He doesn’t even really want to talk to her, let alone any of the others. She takes the seat next to him.

“You didn’t come to the wedding.”

“No.”

“How come?”

“Finn is a dick.”

“Is that why you’re sitting here moping?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Gina broke up with me.” That’s the easiest explanation.

“ _What_?” Octavia says, genuinely stunned. “Why?”

Bellamy takes a long swig of his whiskey. He can’t tell Octavia what Gina said about Clarke. What if Octavia thinks it’s true too?

He puts his empty glass down. “She told me she loved me and I didn’t say it back.”

“Do you love her?”

“No,” Bellamy says, his voice cracking.

“I’m sorry.”

“I guess I thought I would fall in love with her eventually.”

“She did seem perfect for you.” Octavia falls silent, and Bellamy can’t think of any way to respond. Gina did seem perfect for him. She was funny, generous, and beautiful, and she didn’t take any of his shit. They had plenty of common interests, and Bellamy always felt comfortable around her. And yet he wasn’t in love with her. If he couldn’t even make it work with Gina, maybe he really is destined to be alone.

“What about Clarke?” Octavia asks.

Bellamy’s head snaps up. “What?” he asks, heart pounding. Does Octavia somehow know what Gina said about him being in love with Clarke?

“Why is she so mad at you?”

“Oh,” Bellamy swallows, relaxing. “I told her what I really thought of Finn.”

“Well, you’ll have to learn to like him,” Octavia shrugs. Bellamy has no intention of doing that.

“I think I’m going to head home. I’ll take the next flight,” he says, pulling out his wallet to pay for his drinks. “It was a mistake to even come here.” Maybe Clarke would still have married Finn, but at least he would still have Gina. Even if he doesn’t love her. Even if he suspects he never would have fallen in love with her.

“Suit yourself,” Octavia says. “You’re kind of a downer anyway.”

“Yeah, thanks. Go have fun with your friends.”

“Love you, big brother,” Octavia grins, before skipping off. Bellamy pays for his drinks, then gets out his phone to book the next flight home. Gina should be long gone by now.

He sleeps on the flight, so he doesn’t have to think. When he turns his phone back on after they touch down, he has a message from Octavia telling him Monty and Harper got engaged. Bellamy wishes he could feel happy for them, but all he feels is a deep pang of envy. Why is it that everyone gets to be happy but him? He wishes he could go back to before, when all he wanted was meaningless sex and the occasional night out.

There’s no one waiting for him at home. It’s dark and empty and lonely. He drops his bag by the door and kicks his shoes off. It’s not even eight, and he hasn’t eaten anything, but he goes to his room and crawls into bed, wishing he had someone to crawl in with. Except, it’s not Gina his mind conjures up. It’s Clarke. His gut drops.  

“You’re not in love with her,” he mutters to himself.

So why is he thinking about her? Why does his chest ache when he thinks about her marrying Finn? Why is he wishing she was here with him now, curled up against him like she was last night? Why does he keep wondering what it would be like to kiss her, to hold her, to touch her, to fuck her and make her come? Why does it hurt so much to know he can never have that?

His throat starts to close up, and his eyes burn from trying to hold back tears. There’s a weight resting on his chest, crushing him. He wishes he could believe it had anything to do with Gina. But when he thinks of Gina, all he can hear is her words echoing over and over in his head.

_You’re in love with Clarke_. _Loving her is like second nature to you. Deep down you know you want to marry her._

He lets himself imagine, for a brief moment, Clarke in a white dress, walking towards him to meet him at the altar, and he knows with a gut-wrenching certainty that Gina was right. He’s in love with Clarke. The realisation rips the air from his lungs.

He realises he’s probably been in love with her for quite some time, though he can’t conceive the moment it happened. He supposes it happened so slowly he didn’t even realise it was happening. Which is how he got here. Miles and miles away from her, yearning for her, while she spends her wedding night with another man. He’s never felt so wretched and pathetic.

Tears spill out of his eyes then, silent but torrential. So he finally figured it out, but he figured it out too late. Assuming there was even a chance to begin with.

He flashes back to Miller’s wedding, sitting there at that table with Clarke. This time, he changes the ending. He tells Jackson to shut up and he makes Clarke finish her sentence. He never meets Gina. He takes Clarke home instead, and makes love to her over and over and over. Clarke never meets Finn. Bellamy buys a ring instead of a stupid paper plane necklace that she doesn’t want. They get married in the forest. Or on the beach. Or in his backyard, it doesn’t matter. They spend the rest of their lives together.

Bellamy groans, burying his head into his pillow. Torturing himself with could-have-beens isn’t going to change anything. It sure as hell isn’t going to make him feel any better. He’s not sure anything will. Not only will he never get to be with her, he’s also managed to lose her friendship over his comments about Finn. Yet he can’t bring himself to regret that. He said what had to be said, and she needed to hear it, whether or not she actually listened to him. He could apologise, and maybe she’d forgive him. But he won’t be sorry for trying to protect her, even if now he realises his motives may have been slightly selfish.

Half of him feels the urge to tell someone, anyone. Let it all spill out of him and maybe it will be enough to let him breathe easy for a while. The other half of him is desperate to keep it all locked up inside, for nobody to ever know what he feels for Clarke. He picks up his phone, then puts it back down. The instinct for self-preservation wins out. No one has to know. It’s better to suffer in silence than to have anyone pity him.

He does suffer too, and he thinks about her, aching, until he falls asleep.

****

-

 

Monty and Harper’s engagement party is held a month after their trip to Vegas. Bellamy doesn’t want to go. He knows Clarke will be there, and he hasn’t seen her, or spoken to her, or heard from her since their fight. He misses her constantly, and he’s not really angry anymore. But he still can’t bring himself to pretend he’s okay with her marrying Finn, and he knows she’ll expect an apology from him if they’re going to be friends again. He can’t give that to her.

He drags himself to the bar where the party is being held, a picturesque little place, with fairy lights strung all over the place, and an abundance of indoor plants. He’s without a date tonight, and he feels awkward and tense showing up alone, when literally all of his friends are in relationships. They’re bound to all give him pitying looks. Everyone knows about his break up with Gina by now. He just has to be thankful no one knows about the accusation she hurled at him as she broke up with him, or just how true it turned out to be.

Bellamy spots Clarke as soon as he walks in, as if he has some kind of internal compass, pointing to her with every turn. He ignores the lurch of his heart, reminding him that this is the first time he’s seen her since he admitted to himself that he’s in love with her.

She’s wearing a red dress, with a plunging neckline and a floaty skirt. Her lipstick matches. Bellamy wants to drag her into the bathroom and get scarlet lip marks all over his face and body. But she’s with Finn, of course. Her husband. The heart pendant rests against her chest, and the rock on her left hand glints tauntingly as she tucks her hair behind her ear. She’s smiling brightly, and Bellamy tortures himself with the question: does she miss him at all?  

Bellamy grits his teeth, his jaw tight. Best if he avoids both of them for the night. The place is packed with friends and family of Monty and Harper, and it’s easy for Bellamy to slip into the crowd before she notices him.

For such a small place, it takes Bellamy a long time to find the newly engaged couple. He waits for them to be done being congratulated by some people he doesn’t know, then steps forward with his gift. It’s just a gift voucher for a gardening store, but he’d left it until the last minute and couldn’t think of anything else.

“Congratulations, guys,” Bellamy says, hugging each of them in turn, then handing over the small box.

“Thanks for coming,” Monty says. He’s already wearing that look of pity Bellamy was so dreading.

“How are you doing?” Harper asks, wearing an identical expression to Monty. Bellamy forces himself to smile.

“I’m good,” he says. “I think I’m going to get a drink. Can I get you guys something?”

“I think we’re fine,” Harper says. “I think we’ve got a long line of people waiting to buy us drinks,” she laughs.

Bellamy gives a nod, then weaves through the crowd to the bar. As he’s waiting for his drink, Murphy claps him on the back.

“Long time no see,” Murphy says. “Been avoiding me?”

Bellamy glances at him. Emori is with him. “Hey, Emori,” Bellamy says. He looks back to Murphy. “No, I’m not avoiding you. I’ve been busy.”

“Busy moping about your break up?”

“Shut up,” Bellamy mutters. At least Murphy’s jibing is better than the looks of pity he got from Monty and Harper. The bartender places his whiskey in front of him.

“On the hard stuff tonight,” Murphy notes. Bellamy rolls his eyes. Murphy drops his mocking smile and gets sincere. “I really am sorry about Gina,” he says. “I know how much you wanted it to work out. I hope you’re okay.”

Bellamy shrugs. “It’s really fine, Murphy. It is what it is.”

“I can set you up with one of my friends if you like,” Emori interjects. “I assume you’re still looking to settle down.”

“Does everyone know about that?” Bellamy mutters.

“Emori and I tell each other everything,” Murphy shrugs. “So, what do you say?”

Bellamy hesitates. He resists the urge to look over at Clarke. He’s still absurdly aware of where she is. “I don’t think so,” he says.

Murphy shrugs. “Suit yourself.  Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, though he has no intention of doing so. He picks up his drink and finds himself an empty stool at a too high table, amongst the indoor plants, right near the door. That suits him fine. It means he can sneak out unnoticed as soon as he’s ready to leave. His eyes find Clarke, talking to Octavia now, Finn no longer at her side.

He finishes his drink, and is considering getting another one when Miller appears, handing Bellamy another whiskey and hoisting himself onto the stool beside Bellamy.

“What’re you staring at?” Miller asks.

“Nothing,” Bellamy says, tearing his gaze away from her and looking at Miller.

“You doing okay?”

“Why does everyone keep asking that?”

“Because it’s the first time anyone other than Octavia has seen you since Gina broke up with you. Well, hopefully the other teachers at your school have seen you too.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “I’m not depressed. I’m just busy.”

“Not sure I believe you.”

“Miller, believe me. I’m over Gina. She broke up with me because she thought I wasn’t in love with her, and she was right. I was sad at the time, but I’m not heartbroken.”

“Then why does it seem like you are?”

“What am I doing that makes it seem like I am?” Bellamy asks.

Miller shrugs. “You’re sitting here in a corner by yourself instead of talking to any of your friends. You’ve barely spoken to any of us in the last month.”

“Like I said—”

“You’re busy. Yeah, I know.”

Miller clearly isn’t satisfied with Bellamy’s lame excuses. But how can Bellamy possibly tell him the truth? That he’s pining after a girl he can never in a million years be with?

He’s thought about it a lot over the last month, and the truth is, even if she wasn’t married to someone else, it would never be appropriate for him to pursue a relationship with her. He’s known her since she was twelve for fuck’s sake. He’s nine years older than her, and it’s not just the age gap that makes him think it’s wrong, but the fact that he’s been like an older brother to her for almost half her life. If he tried to make a move on her he could destroy that relationship forever. Not that there’s much of a relationship left to destroy at the moment.

Bellamy sips his drink, and Miller sighs, seeming to realise he’s not going to get much out of Bellamy tonight.

“If you feel like talking, come and find me,” Miller says, and then he disappears into the crowd.

Bellamy finishes his second drink, but doesn’t move to get another one. He must be putting out some serious _don’t-come-near-me_ vibes, because no one else approaches him or tries to draw him into a conversation. He’s been here barely an hour, but he’s already thinking about sneaking off. He eyes the door, then scans the room to make sure no one is watching him. Of course, no one is paying any attention to him. Clarke is leaning against Finn, his arm around her, and Bellamy tries not to wish it were him.

Bellamy looks back to the door, then jumps, startled, as a woman appears in the glass. She pushes the door open, frowning. She looks out of place, dressed in jeans and a tank top, her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, while everyone else at the party is dressed up. She catches Bellamy watching her, and approaches him, ignoring his obvious wish to be left alone. Although, maybe he doesn’t want to be left alone anymore. She’s gorgeous, and he hasn’t had sex since Gina dumped him.

She rests her left hand on the table. Married. It’s not much of a disappointment. He probably doesn’t have it in him to hit on her tonight anyway.

“Hey,” she says. “I’m looking for Finn Collins. Do you know him?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. He nods in Finn’s direction, where he and Clarke are chatting to Jasper and Maya. The woman looks over.

“Fuck,” she says. “Who’s the girl?”

“His _wife_ ,” Bellamy scowls. The woman looks back to Bellamy, her lip curled, her nostrils flared. She could burn a hole right into his head with the heat in her eyes.

“I don’t think so,” she says. Bellamy frowns, confused. He’s about to ask what she’s talking about, but then she’s storming towards Finn and Clarke, and Bellamy knows exactly what’s going on.

“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck.” He stands up. He knows there’s no way he can stop this woman, no way for him to warn Clarke, but he can’t just sit here and _watch_. He scrambles after the woman, trying not to make himself too conspicuous. The last thing anyone needs is for a scene to be made.

“Finn,” the woman says, her voice already full of accusation. Finn, Clarke, Jasper, and Maya all turn to look at her. Bellamy stands behind her, and Clarke glances at him.

“Clarke,” he says, trying to warn her somehow, with his eyes. God, he wishes he could save her from this. She ignores him.

“Raven,” Finn chokes out, pulling away from Clarke abruptly, as if he thinks he can still make it out of this alive. “What are you doing here?”

“I used Find My Friends to find you,” she says. “Asshole.”

“What’s going on?” Clarke asks.

“Maybe we should go outside,” Finn says, clearly starting to feel the heat. His eyes are panicked, and he’s sweating. “Clarke, wait here.”

“So you can come back in and explain it all away later?” Raven sneers. “I don’t think so. She’s coming too.”

Raven grabs Finn’s arm and drags him towards the exit. Clarke looks to Bellamy, and he can tell she’s beginning to understand what’s happening. Bellamy just shakes his head, at a loss for words. Clarke swallows, and follows Finn and Raven outside.

“What just happened?” Jasper asks.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bellamy mutters. He wants to go after them. Instead, he settles for sitting back in his seat by the door and watching out the window. It’s dark out, but he can see Raven absolutely losing it under the streetlight. Not that he can blame her. Finn looks like he’s trying to explain himself, looks like he’s about to get down on his knees and beg forgiveness. Clarke stands there, unmoving. Bellamy can’t see her face, but she’s clearly chosen not to engage.

Bellamy wants to run out there and beat the shit out of Finn. He finally has a reason to. But it’s not his place. It looks like Raven has it covered anyway. She slaps Finn across the face, and his hand flies to his cheek. Raven stalks off. Finn turns to Clarke, begging her now. He’s crying. Bellamy’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t want Finn anywhere near Clarke ever again. Clarke remains still as stone, until Finn reaches for her, and she shoves him away. She yells something, and Finn only hesitates for a moment before he’s gone too.

Bellamy takes that as his cue. He gets up and walks out onto the street. The night is pleasantly warm with a slight breeze. Clarke stands on the sidewalk, arms folded. She looks up as Bellamy approaches. Tears stream down her cheeks.

“What do you want?” she snaps. “Come to tell me you told me so?”

“Of course not, Clarke—”

“You must think I’m pretty stupid right now, huh? How could I not know?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He steps forward, and Clarke falls into his arms, sobbing. He holds her tightly, rubbing her back, letting her cry into his shoulder. Bellamy glances towards the bar, and he realises they’re still in full view of everyone at the party. It doesn’t look like anyone’s watching them, but he can’t imagine Clarke would want any of her friends to see her like this.

“Come on,” he says, pulling away from her, though it goes against all his instincts. He takes her hand instead.

“Where are we going?” Clarke sniffles, as Bellamy leads her towards his car.

“To the sea.”

“The sea?”

“To get rid of your ring.”

They reach his car, parked a little way down the street, and Bellamy opens the passenger side door.

“That’s over an hour away,” Clarke points out.

“You got something better to do?”

Clarke shakes her head, and Bellamy bustles her into the car. He shuts the door, then rounds the car and gets into the driver’s seat. He starts the car.

“I can take you home if you want,” he says.

“No,” Clarke says. Her cheeks are still stained with tears, but she’s stopped crying for the moment. “I want to go.”

Bellamy puts the car in drive.


	9. Wake Up Where You Are

Though his eyes are trained on the road, and the car is dark, save for the glowing blue lights on the dashboard, Bellamy notices every movement Clarke makes. She leans towards the window, fiddling with the ring on her finger, as if she can’t decide whether or not to take it off yet. She quietly slips it off, then lets it sit in her lap.

“She was his wife, you know,” Clarke says. Her voice is wet with tears, and Bellamy realises she’s been crying again. “Her name is Raven. She drove all the way from New York because she suspected he was cheating on her. He told her he had a new job, a sales job that required him to travel. Except he wasn’t bringing in any extra money.”

“He’s a fucking jerk, Clarke.”

Clarke doesn’t seem to hear him. “From the sounds of it, he’s pretty much the only family she has. And I fucked that up for her.” Her voice breaks at the end, and Bellamy’s heart breaks with it.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says. “None of this is your fault. You couldn’t have known. No one knew.”

“ _You_ knew.”

“I didn’t really,” Bellamy says. “I just don’t think anyone is good enough for you.”

He feels no satisfaction in being right about Finn. He never wanted this for Clarke. He always just wanted her to be happy.

“I feel like such a fool. It’s not like he just had another girlfriend. He had a _wife_. How stupid could I be not to figure that out?”

“He manipulated you, Clarke,” Bellamy says.

“I never went to his house, you know. That should have been a sign. When we got back from Vegas, he said he had to _take care of a few things_ before we moved in together. I’m such an idiot.”

“Finn is the idiot,” Bellamy says. “I wish I’d gotten the chance to knock him out.”

“If you ever happen to run into him, you have my permission. I’ll probably do the same.”

Bellamy smiles to himself. He’s glad Finn hasn’t totally broken her spirit.  

“I really missed you, you know,” Clarke says quietly. “I hated not talking to you. But I was so angry for what you said about Finn.”

“I missed you too,” Bellamy says hoarsely. “I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

“Me too.”

She falls silent, and goes back to staring out the window. Her phone, sitting in her lap, lights up with a text from Finn. She glances at it and turns it over.

“Turn it off,” Bellamy says. “Turn mine off too.” He hands her his phone, and Clarke turns them both off.

Bellamy turns on the radio, and some unknown song ends with a dramatic guitar strum. A split second later, the opening bars of _Slide_ by the Goo Goo Dolls fills the car, and he’s thrown back in time, to dancing with Clarke at her wedding to Wells. It feels like a lifetime ago. He should have known then that he was in love with her.

Bellamy sings quietly to himself, not wanting to be insensitive to Clarke, but unable to help himself.

“ _Could you whisper in my ear, the things you wanna feel? I’d give you anything, to feel it coming. Do you wake up on your own and wonder where you are? You live with all your faults…_ ”

To Bellamy’s surprise, Clarke joins in, softly, but just loud enough for him to hear.

“ _I wanna wake up where you are. I won’t say anything at all. So why don’t you slide_?”

Clarke sits up then, and reaches for the volume knob, turning it right up, and then the two of them are screaming the lyrics together, and Bellamy is grinning from ear to ear.

“ _Don’t you love the life you killed? The priest is on the phone. Your father hit the wall, your ma disowned you. Don’t suppose I’ll ever know, what it means to be a man. It’s something I can’t change. I’ll live around it._ ”

They turn to each other as they scream the bridge.

“ _Put your arms around me. What you feel is what you are, and what you are is beautiful. Oh, May. Do you wanna get married, or run away?_ ”

By the time the song is over, Clarke is laughing, and Bellamy’s voice is hoarse.

“Okay, I feel a lot better now,” Clarke says. “You really are good at this.”

“Singing?”

“Um…”

“Shut up, I know I’m amazing.”

Clarke cackles at him, and Bellamy snorts out a laugh. He’s pretty sure she’s hysterical, but at least she’s not moping, right? The next song comes on, and Bellamy turns down the radio.

The rest of the drive goes by quickly, though they don’t talk much. It’s a comfortable silence in perfect company. They reach the coast, and Bellamy pulls into an empty carpark at a surf beach. It’s nearing midnight now, and they barely passed a car on the way here.

They get out of the car, and the wind batters against them, threatening to blow them over. Clarke is determined, however, and she marches down to the sand, barefoot, ring in her hand. Bellamy follows. She goes right to the edge of the water, toes in the ocean. Bellamy hangs back, watching the wind whip her hair and skirt wildly, and the waves rage in front of her, as if the ocean too is angry on her behalf and wants to show its solidarity.

Clarke looks over her shoulder at Bellamy, as if wondering why he isn’t with her. Bellamy slips off his shoes and socks, rolls up his dress pants and goes to stand beside her. He hisses as the freezing water rushes over his feet and ankles.

Clarke turns the ring over in her hand. “Fuck you, Finn!” she yells. Bellamy can barely hear her over the wind, though he’s standing right next to her. She flings the ring into the ocean, where it’s swallowed up by the tempestuous waves without a sound, and without so much as a ripple. Insignificant, just as Bellamy hopes Finn will be in a month or two.

Clarke stares across the water at the horizon, while Bellamy stares at her. She puts a hand to her chest, covering the heart pendant that still hangs there. With a sharp pull, she rips the cheap chain from her neck, then tosses that into the ocean as well. Tears well in her eyes again, and Bellamy instinctively reaches for her, pulling her close as she starts to sob.

Clarke falls asleep on the drive home. Bellamy can’t help but glance at her occasionally. He loves her so much. How did it take him so long to realise it?

He stops at a gas station to fill up and buy a coffee, and Clarke starts awake.

“Hey, will you get me—”

“Oreos, right?”

Clarke stares at him. “How did you know?”

Bellamy smirks. “You think I didn’t notice you getting up for a midnight snack every time you stayed over? What is it about Oreos in the middle of the night?”

Clarke laughs softly. “When I was a kid, whenever I had a nightmare, my dad would let me have Oreos and milk to help me get back to sleep.”

Bellamy smiles. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

She’s asleep again by the time he gets back to the car. He checks his phone, and finds he has six missed calls from Octavia. Whoops. It’s almost 2am now, but he calls her back anyway, figuring she’ll probably still be awake.

“Hey,” he says quietly, trying not to wake Clarke.

“Where the fuck are you?” Octavia hisses.

“At a gas station.”

“Is Clarke with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank god. What the fuck happened? Jasper said a very angry woman yelled at Finn and then all four of you were gone.”

“Finn cheated on her,” Bellamy says. “Or he cheated on someone else with Clarke. He was already married.”

“Shit,” Octavia says, sucking in a breath. “Is she okay?”

“She’s asleep now. We just went for a drive. I think she’s feeling a little better.”

“I’m staying at Niylah’s tonight, so she can sleep in my bed if you don’t want to risk waking her mom.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

He ends the call, then pulls back out onto the highway to make the last of the drive home. He pulls into his driveway, and Clarke is still asleep. He gets out of the car as quietly as he can, and goes around to her side. Gently, he lifts her into his arms and carries her inside. She stirs as he reaches the living room.

“Bell?” she murmurs.

“It’s okay, you can go back to sleep,” he tells her. “I’m going to put you in Octavia’s bed.”

“No,” Clarke says.

“You want me to take you to your mom’s?”

“I want to sleep in your bed.”

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees, though he can’t really see what the difference is. “I’ll sleep in Octavia’s room then.”

“No, I want to sleep in your bed with you,” Clarke says softly. “I don’t want to be by myself.” 

Bellamy hesitates. “Okay,” he agrees.

“You can put me down now.” Bellamy lowers her to the ground. “Do you have anything I can wear? I don’t want to sleep in my dress.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He leads her to his room, heart pounding, trying not to let himself think this might mean anything. He finds Clarke a navy pyjama shirt that he’s never worn, half of a set he occasionally wears the bottoms to. He grabs the pants too. Usually he’d just wear boxers to bed, or nothing at all, but he thinks the extra layer might be necessary tonight. Less chance of skin on skin contact. He doesn’t know if he could bear it.

Clarke takes the shirt from his hands and heads to the bathroom. Bellamy changes while she’s gone. When she gets back, she’s taken her make-up and off piled her hair on top of her head in a messy bun. She’s wearing his shirt, and it’s a lot smaller on her than he had imagined. It barely reaches her thighs. Bellamy tries not to stare, tries not to feel anything. Clarke seems unconcerned. Bellamy watches as she crawls into his bed, heart lodged in his throat. Gingerly, he slips under the covers beside her, keeping a safe distance between their bodies.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says. Her voice shakes, like she’s about to start crying again. “Hold me.”

Bellamy shifts closer to her, and as he wraps his arms around her, she starts sobbing, her shoulders shuddering as she cries. Bellamy knows there’s nothing he can do but hold her and try to be there for her. He hopes that can be enough.

 

-

 

Clarke is already up by the time Bellamy wakes up in the morning. He’s disappointed. He supposes he’ll never get the chance to know what it’s like to wake up with Clarke Griffin in his bed. Although it’s probably for the best, considering the state of his cock right now, hard and aching, making a considerable tent in his pants. He hopes Clarke didn’t notice before she got up.

He considers jerking off for a moment, then immediately decides against it. That can wait until she’s gone. He gives himself a few minutes for it to go down on its own.

When it’s safe, he gets up, and finds Clarke in the kitchen making breakfast. She’s still wearing his shirt, and his stomach lurches at the sight of her.

“Hey,” he says, his voice still gravelly from sleep. “What are you doing?”

“Making pancakes. To thank you for last night.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Clarke shrugs. “I want to.” She flips a pancake onto a plate, stacking it on top of two others she’s already made. They’re aren’t perfect, but they look edible.

“How are you feeling?” Bellamy asks as Clarke hands him the plate. He slides onto one of the stools at the counter.

“I’m… okay,” she says. “I’m still kind of angry. And I still feel like a complete idiot. But I think I’m done crying. He’s not worth it.”

“Definitely not,” Bellamy agrees. He jabs a fork into his pancakes, and pops a bite into his mouth.

“Well, how are they?” Clarke asks, almost anxious.

“Pretty good,” Bellamy grins. Clarke beams.

“I should get going,” she says.

“You’re not going to stay and eat?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I’ve got to get back to New York, and I still have to grab my stuff from mom’s house.”

Bellamy nods. “Okay. Don’t be stranger, okay? If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“I know,” Clarke smiles. “And—you too, okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when Gina broke up with you.”

Bellamy smiles wryly. She doesn’t sound pitying, just regretful. “It’s okay, Clarke. I’m fine. Like you said—if something is meant to be, it will be. It wasn’t meant to be.”

“So you do listen to me,” she says cheekily. Bellamy rolls his eyes. “I’m going to go get dressed and then I’ll get out of your hair. Love you, Bell.” She kisses him on the cheek, and then skips off to go and get dressed. It takes Bellamy’s heart a few minutes to recover and return to its regular beat, and for his face to cool down. He eats his pancakes, trying not to let his mind wander.

It seems he has no control over his own thoughts however, because then he’s daydreaming about waking up to Clarke every morning, her walking around the house in nothing but his shirt. He’s so far gone it’s not funny. He puts his fork down, screwing up his face as if he’s in physical pain, hating himself for being so pathetic.

Clarke walks back into the kitchen, back in her red dress from last night. “Okay, I’m off,” she says.

“You need a ride?”

“I already ordered an Uber,” Clarke says. Bellamy nods. Clarke hesitates. For a moment, Bellamy humours himself that maybe she doesn’t want to leave. “I think I’m going to reach out to her. Raven.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I want to apologise. Explain. I didn’t really get a chance last night. We were both so angry.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says. “Good for you.”

“Okay. I’m going. Bye!” Bellamy stands up, and Clarke pulls him into a quick hug, before she scampers off. Bellamy can already feel himself longing for her. Who knows how long it will be until he sees her again?

This keeping it inside, trying to not let anyone else know how he feels, is killing him. He needs to talk to someone, get it out, and maybe he can stop torturing himself. He has to get over her, and he’s never going to do it alone.

He goes back to his bedroom where he left his phone, picks it up from the nightstand and texts Miller, his stomach churning.  

**I think I’m in love with Clarke.**

Surprisingly, Miller responds promptly.

**_Yeah. Sorry man. Glad you finally figured it out._ **


	10. I'll Be Here When You Get Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> changing my update day now that the hiatus has started

She’s back to texting him every day again. His heart skitters every time he sees her name light up his phone screen. It’s pathetic. He has to stop bringing his phone to class because he can’t stop himself from checking it, and his students keep asking what he’s smiling about, which is embarrassing as hell.

The weekend after he’d texted Miller, the two of them get drunk on Bellamy’s living room floor. He can’t make himself bring up Clarke until six beers in, when he starts whining about how he wishes he could kiss her. 

“She’s single, you’re single,” Miller says. “What’s stopping you?”

“She literally just found out her husband was cheating on her.”

“The timing is never going to be right, man. Sometimes you just gotta go for it.”

“I’m too old for her.”

“Doesn’t seem like dating people her own age has worked out that well for her so far.”

“She thinks of me as a brother.”

Miller snorts at that. “I highly doubt that.”

“You highly doubt that? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You really think a young girl, obsessed with marriage, didn’t look at her best friend’s older brother, an attractive man she was close to and looked up to, and think _maybe it could be him?_ ”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. I’d bet money that she had a crush on you at some point.”

“Yeah, well. Even if that’s true, _at some point_ is definitely not _now_.”

Miller shrugs, unconcerned. “Whatever you say, man. You sure as hell have a lot of excuses.”

As far as Bellamy is concerned, all Miller’s advice is terrible. His excuses are _good reasons_ to keep his feelings to himself. He doesn’t want to ruin his friendship with her again, because it was awful last time. Neither does he want to come off as some kind of predator, chasing after a woman nine years younger than him. And even if those reasons didn’t exist, if he could convince himself he really had a chance with Clarke, he wouldn’t do anything about it _now_. Despite what Miller might think, timing is important. If the timing is never right, it means it wasn’t meant to be.

He lets himself stew in his thoughts for a moment before he speaks again, the words coming to his tongue before he’s had a chance to think about them.

“How’d you know I was in love with her?”

“I don’t know. Lots of things. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Like what?”

Miller shrugs. “The way you look at her. The way you talk about her.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Jackson. Murphy and I may have talked about it once. Which means Emori probably knows.”

Bellamy groans. “I’m such an idiot. How did it take me so long to figure it out? How long have I loved her?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but Miller answers anyway. “Probably as long as you’ve known her.”

“May I remind you she was twelve when we met?”

Miller snorts. “I don’t mean you thought about her like that the whole time. But you saw this twelve-year-old girl who was just some friend of your sister’s, and you immediately decided that you had to protect her. That she was part of your family. Like you just knew right from the start you had to have her in your life.”

“And somewhere along the way I started looking at her differently?”

“Probably when she grew tits.”

“God, don’t be so vulgar. You sound like the old Murphy.”

Miller grins. “You saying you didn’t notice?”

“I may have noticed,” Bellamy admits, his face feeling hot. “You’re making me sound like a creep.”

“That’s ‘cause you are,” Miller laughs. “Dirty old man.”

“Fuck off.”

 

-

 

It's a month before he sees Clarke again. Face to face at least. He doesn’t check Instagram religiously, but he does notice when Clarke posts a selfie, her hair dramatically shorter, and the ends dyed pink. It’s stupid how every time he even sees a picture of her, his heart flips over in his chest. She looks good with short hair. Bellamy wants to run his fingers through it.

The caption reads: _fresh hair for a fresh start._ Bellamy takes that to mean that her dramatic hairstyle change is part of the process of getting over Finn. He hits like on the picture, and he almost messages her to tell her how much he likes it, but then he chickens out. He’ll see her in a couple of weeks, when the school year is over. She’s already promised him she’ll be coming home as soon as her last class is done. He can tell her then.

He invites Miller and Murphy over for drinks on Friday night, the last day of term, as per usual. This time, they bring Jackson and Emori. Bellamy doesn’t own enough outdoor chairs, so they bring the dining chairs outside. Octavia shows up at around eight, Niylah in tow.

“I didn’t even know you were back,” Bellamy says, as Octavia finds a spot on the grass, and Niylah sits down next to her.

“I don’t have to tell you everything.” Bellamy tosses his bottle cap at her.

It’s a warm night, the sun just starting to set. Everyone is a little buzzed, the conversation and the drinks flowing. Octavia forces Murphy to shut his music off so she can play hers, and it’s a little dancier than Bellamy’s usual taste, but he’s into it. Everything is perfect. Except for the fact that Clarke isn’t there. Bellamy wonders if anyone has noticed how often he glances at the door, hoping she’ll walk in. He keeps checking his phone, but there are no messages from her either.

“Hey, O,” Bellamy says, not caring that he’s just interrupted her conversation with Emori. “Do you know if Clarke is coming?”

Octavia shrugs. “I don’t know. She talks to you more than she talks to me.”

“I think I’m going to call her and make sure she’s okay.”

“Of course you are,” Octavia mutters.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Everyone is looking at Octavia now, and for once in her life she looks hesitant. “Nothing,” she says. “Go call her.”

Bellamy eyes his sister suspiciously, but he doesn’t push it. He doesn’t want to spoil the night by getting into an argument with her. He takes his phone inside, into the kitchen, already dialling Clarke’s number. His heart skips a beat when she answers.

“Hey,” she says. “Sorry, I just got into town. I’m at Mom’s now.”

“That’s okay,” Bellamy says. “I was just worried. Do you think you’ll still drop around?”

“I’d love to, but I’m exhausted. I think I’m just going to head to bed.”

Bellamy tries not to feel too disappointed. “Okay,” he says. “Maybe we could do something tomorrow? Me, you, and Octavia could see a movie or something.”

“Okay,” Clarke agrees. “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

He hangs up just as Octavia walks into the kitchen.

“You want to come to the movies tomorrow with me and Clarke?”

“Can’t,” Octavia says, opening the fridge. “I already have plans with Niylah.” Octavia pulls a beer out of the fridge and then swings the door shut. “You two have fun though.”

“By the way, what was that about, out there?” Bellamy asks her.

Octavia shrugs. “Just that you’re weirdly overprotective of her.”

“I’m protective of both of you,” Bellamy says.

Octavia tilts her head. “But you worry about her more.”

Bellamy swallows. “What are you trying to say? That I don’t care about you?”

“Of course not. But I know Clarke told you I was dating someone before Niylah. And you never even asked me about him. You don’t have a problem with Niylah.”

Bellamy shakes his head, confused. “You want me to hate the people you date?”

“You hated Finn. You hated him way too much for someone who had no investment in the girl.”

“I was right about Finn.”

“What about Wells? You never really liked him either, did you?”

“I liked Wells just fine.” Octavia raises an eyebrow. Bellamy makes a noise of exasperation. “What do you want from me here?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you’re the one being weird about it, I’ll just come out and ask. Do you have feelings for Clarke?”

Though he knew where this line of questioning was coming from, and where it was headed, the question still leaves him speechless. “I—” he stammers. He swallows. “Yeah.”

“I’ve suspected it for a while, but I figured you didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. That’s why I didn’t say anything in front of your friends.”

Bellamy sighs. “They already know. Apparently I’m shit at hiding it.”

Octavia pats him on the shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure Clarke doesn’t know.”

“Thanks.”

“Maybe you should tell her though.”

“You don’t think it’s weird? That I’m too old for her?”

Octavia shrugs. “No. I think you guys would be good together.”

Bellamy hesitates. He feels awkward asking his sister this next question, but if anyone is going to know, it will be Octavia. “And… do you think she’s into me?”

Octavia snorts. “As if she would tell me. I’d tease her mercilessly. Just like I’m going to tease you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you either.”

“You’re easy to read,” Octavia says. She shrugs. “I don’t know, I think it’s very possible she’s into you.”

Bellamy nods thoughtfully. “Okay. Thanks.”

Octavia grins. “Have fun on your date tomorrow,” she sings, before skipping back outside.

“It’s not a date!” he calls after her. It’s just him and Clarke, hanging out alone together, which they’ve done plenty of times before. Because they’re friends. It’s definitely not a date. 

 

-

 

Bellamy’s stomach is in knots the whole morning before his not-date with Clarke. Which is stupid, because it’s not a date. And he’s definitely not going to tell her how he feels about her, because that would be stupid, right?

Except now he’s starting to think it might not be so stupid. Neither Octavia nor Miller seem to think it’s stupid.

So what if he’s a few years older than her? People have made it work with bigger age differences before. And he can’t use timing as an excuse anymore. They’re both single, and he knows he’s in love with her, and she’s not heartbroken over some jerk that didn’t deserve her.

On the short drive to the cinema complex, Bellamy makes his decision. If he gets any sort of sign from her that she might feel the same way about him, he’ll tell her. If not, then there’s no harm done. He’ll just pine in silence for eternity.

She’s already waiting out the front when he arrives at the cinema, looking at her phone, her short hair blowing gently in the breeze. She looks cute in a floral sundress, the pink flowers matching her hair. God, he wants to kiss her. What would she do if he just walked up and kissed her hello right now?

“Hey,” he says, alerting her to his presence. Clarke looks up from her phone and beams at him.

“Hey,” she says, pulling him into a hug. “I’ve missed you.” She tucks her phone into the little bag slung over her shoulder.

“I missed you too,” Bellamy says. “I, uh—I like your hair.” God, it sounds so lame, and it shouldn’t be so hard to say, but as soon as the words are off his tongue, he feels embarrassed that he said it at all.

But Clarke looks pleased, and she ducks her head, running her fingers through her hair. “Thanks,” she says. Fuck, she’s adorable. He pushes down the urge to kiss her even further.

He doesn’t mean to, but he drops his eyes to her cleavage, because apparently, he just can’t help himself. Around her neck is a gold chain with a paper plane dangling from it. His necklace. His heart pounds. He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything. But then again, wasn’t he _looking_ for a sign?

“Should we get our tickets?” Clarke says, saving him from embarrassing himself.

“I’ll get them,” Bellamy says.

“I can pay for my own movie tickets, Bellamy,” Clarke says.

“I know that. I want to pay,” he says. “Let me do something for you.”

“You already do enough,” Clarke assures him. “Come on.”

They go inside and stand in line. Clarke fiddles with her necklace as they stand there, as if she’s nervous. Bellamy feels hope bloom in his chest. Is it possible he gives her butterflies the way she gives them to him? Is her wearing the necklace he gave her a way of saying she wants to be with him? Or is he reading into things?

They reach the front of the line and approach the counter. “Two adults for The Lion King,” Bellamy says. A choice which Bellamy is now regretting. The theatre is going to be packed with children, and he’ll probably bawl his eyes out when Mufasa dies. Not romantic at all. And he’s starting to realise just how desperately he wants this to be romantic. He’s even wearing his date socks, bright pink with purple dots on them.

“Sure,” the cashier says. “Any particular seats you’d like?”

“As close to the back as we can get,” Bellamy says.

“And will be you be paying together?”

“Separately,” Clarke says quickly.

“She won’t let me pay,” Bellamy grins, just in case the cashier is judging him for not footing the bill. The girl smiles.

“I get it,” she says to Clarke. “I never let my boyfriend pay for things either.”

Bellamy’s heart spasms. He glances at Clarke, watching for her reaction. She’s blushing, but she doesn’t say anything to correct the cashier. Bellamy keeps his mouth shut too, but his heart won’t be quiet.

They pay for their tickets, then walk to the theatre in silence. All Bellamy can think about is being referred to as Clarke’s boyfriend, and how much he wants it to be true. Is she thinking the same? Does the fact that she didn’t say anything about it mean anything? Or did she just think it was less awkward that way?

“Oh, we didn’t get popcorn,” Clarke says as they take their seats.

“I can go and get some if you want some,” Bellamy says quickly.

“No, that’s okay,” Clarke says.

“We can go and get ice cream after this if you like,” Bellamy suggests. An excuse to spend more time with her.

“Okay,” Clarke agrees. “I’ll let you buy me ice cream,” she grins. They fall silent as the trailers start up.

Bellamy doesn’t pay much attention to the movie. He’s too aware of Clarke next to him. He can’t stop thinking about casually slipping his hand into hers, tracing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. Every time he thinks he could actually do it, he chickens out. He swears he used to have game, but now he’s panicking over the thought of holding a girl’s hand. It’s pathetic.

After the movie, they walk to a gelato place around the corner. Clarke lists all the things she did and didn’t like about the movie, while Bellamy listens fondly, still trying to work out if there’s a way he can hold her hand and make it seem platonic.

True to her word, she lets him pay for her gelato, a cone with a scoop of hazelnut and a scoop of bubblegum. They sit at one of the plastic tables, side by side, their knees pressed against each other. Bellamy doesn’t know how much longer he can keep denying himself the urge to kiss her, or to hold her hand, to just touch her in any way possible.

He makes his decision then. If he confesses, and she feels the same, he can kiss her whenever he wants to. That alone gives him enough courage to do it.

“So, guess what?” Clarke says. “I befriended Raven.”

“Finn’s wife, Raven?”

“The very same. She’s really cool. I think you’d like her.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. She and Finn are getting a divorce. And she and I got a new friend out of it. I think we win.”

“Definitely,” Bellamy laughs.

“Speaking of exes,” Clarke says. “I wanted to ask you what happened with Gina. You guys seemed so in love.”

“Ah,” Bellamy says. “Well, she was in love with me. And I was—not in love with her.”

Clarke nods thoughtfully. “And—there’s no one else?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “There’s no one else,” he whispers. _Only you_. “Clarke,” he croaks out. “I—I have to tell you something.” She looks up from her gelato. His stomach swoops.

“Oh,” Clarke says. She looks nervous all of a sudden. “Me too, actually.”

“Yeah?” Bellamy says, hopeful. “You go first.” Okay, he’s a coward. But if she says it first, then it will be easier for him to say it back.

Her hand flies to her chest again, playing with the paper plane around her neck anxiously.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while,” Clarke says. “I’m—I’ve decided to go to Paris and do my last year of college abroad.”

“Oh,” Bellamy says. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut. She’s leaving. She’s _leaving_. He despairs at the thought. And yet, it’s such an amazing opportunity, and he knows he has to be happy for her. He forces himself to smile. “That’s great,” he says. “You’ll really love it there.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “Did you somehow sneak away to Paris at some stage without me knowing about it?” she jokes.

Bellamy finds himself turning red. He lets out a weak laugh. “No, I, uh—I just meant, you know. There’s a lot of art there. People say it’s beautiful.” God, he sounds like such an idiot.

“You really think it’s a good idea?”

“Course I do,” Bellamy says. “What an amazing experience, right?”

“Right,” Clarke agrees. “Mom’s helping me pay for it, of course,” Clarke says. “I leave in two weeks. I want to get settled in, get a chance to experience Paris before I have to start school.”

Two weeks. That’s not enough time with her. He thought he had the whole summer. Some part of him imagined them spending every second together until she went back to New York. And Paris is so much further than New York. There won’t be any weekend trips home from Paris.

“That’s a good idea,” Bellamy says, trying not to get choked up.

Clarke smiles. “Yeah. So, what did you want to tell me?”

_I love you,_ his brain screams. _I love you, I love you, I love you._ But he can’t tell her now. Even if she does feel the same, and part of him still believes there’s a chance she does, he can’t do that to her, to himself, when they’ve only got two weeks together before she’ll be gone for a whole year.

“I—um—” he stammers. “I don’t remember.”

Clarke tilts her head. “Yes, you do.”

Bellamy hesitates. For a moment, he’s sure she knows. But he also knows she’s not ready to hear it. If he tells her, whether or not she feels the same, she’ll go off to Paris with that knowledge weighing her down. She needs to do this without anything holding her back. To go off, alone, find herself, and maybe when she comes back, maybe then the timing will be right.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bellamy whispers. “It can wait.”

“Okay,” Clarke says curiously. Bellamy breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn’t know. She has no fucking idea that he’s desperately in love with her. That the thought of living here without her for a year is soul crushing.

She goes back to eating her gelato, and Bellamy goes back to aching for her in silence.

 

-

 

Two weeks later, Bellamy is the one to take her to the airport. She’s fidgety with nervous energy the whole drive there. He parks the car in the short-term parking lot, and carries her suitcases to check-in. His heart feels like lead, knowing that every step brings her closer to leaving him.

He waits for her to check her bags, two huge suitcases she bought specially to take with her. She walks back over to him, ticket and passport in hand, little pink backpack on her shoulders. She’s still wearing his necklace.

She should look happy, excited. But she looks anxious and forlorn. Exactly how he feels.

“Clarke?”

Before he can ask her what’s wrong, she’s bursting into tears, pulling him into a hug. He wraps his arms around her, trying to comfort her as best he can. He wants to tell her that if leaving makes her upset, she should just stay here. But he knows she’s just crying because this is a huge change for her. Once she gets settled in in Paris, she’ll be fine. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier seeing her cry. He tightens his arms and she does the same, burying her face into his shoulder. Anyone watching would think they were never going to see each other again.

Eventually she pulls away, and Bellamy reluctantly lets her go.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Clarke says. She’s stopped crying, but tears still stain her cheeks, and her voice trembles. Bellamy tries to swallow the lump lodged in his throat. Tears prick the corners of his eyes.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” he promises. _I’ll wait for you_ , is what he doesn’t say. _Don’t forget about me_.

Clarke surges up towards him, and for a heart stopping moment, he thinks she’s going to kiss him goodbye. Her lips meet his cheek, and he feels a tear escape and roll down his face.

“I’ll see you when I get back, then,” Clarke says.

“When you get back,” Bellamy agrees.

“Bellamy?” She stops. Swallows. “I—”

“Yeah?”

“I—I better go.”

Bellamy nods. It takes everything in him not to tell her he loves her. “Don’t forget to write,” he jokes, as if that will make it all hurt less.

“I won’t,” Clarke says seriously. And then she’s leaving, heading towards security. He waits until he can’t see her anymore. At the last moment, before she disappears from view, she turns back, and he waves lamely.

As he walks back to his car, the dam breaks, and tears stream down his face. _One year_ , he reminds himself. One year, and then he can tell her.

 


	11. Wish You Were Here

In the year Clarke is gone, Bellamy tries to comfort himself with thoughts of _when she gets back_. Some he shares with her on the phone, or over text. When she’s missing the food from home: _when you get back, I’ll take you out to a nice old-fashioned American burger place._ When she tells him she’s taken way too many photos already: _when you get back, I’m going to make you show them all to me_.

And then, other things he doesn’t say, that he can’t say. _When you get back, I’m going to tell you how in love with you I am. When you get back, I’m going to kiss you until you can’t breathe._

His friends think he’s crazy to wait for her. Murphy in particular. He and Emori keep trying to introduce him to Emori’s friends, as if that will make him forget about Clarke. He can’t even pretend to be interested. It’s Clarke, or it’s no one.

Clarke posts frequent photos on Instagram, and he checks her page constantly. She keeps him updated on her classes, on her knowledge of the French language, on her new friends, Lexa and Anya, and on her short trips to other places in France and surrounding countries. When she goes to Rome, she sends him constant pictures, teasing him, knowing how much he’d love to go.

She calls him that night, while he’s making dinner. As soon as her name pops up on his screen, he scrambles to answer, forgetting all about the onions he’s sautéing.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” she murmurs sleepily. Bellamy quickly calculates the time difference in his head.

“Isn’t it like, midnight there?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says. “I wanted to make sure you’d be home when I called.”

“Did you have a nice day?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says. “Wish you were here though. You would have loved it. We should come back together one day.”

_Maybe on our honeymoon_ , Bellamy thinks. And he doesn’t even think he’s being ridiculous anymore. The things they say to each other on the phone lately—it’s like they’re making promises to each other. Small promises, sure. Promises that he could make to a friend, even. But they feel big. They teeter on the edge of friendship and romance. _I’ll take you out to dinner. We should go to Rome together._ He’s not making these promises to anyone else, and he hopes to god she isn’t either.

“I’d love that,” Bellamy says. “You’re still in Rome?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says. “We’re doing some more sightseeing tomorrow then flying back to Paris tomorrow night.”

“With Anya and Lexa?”

“Just Lexa,” Clarke says. “Anya says she’s been to Rome once before and she hates it.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure I’m a fan of Anya,” Bellamy jokes.

“She’s gay, anyway, Bellamy,” Clarke says.

He snorts. “Not what I meant. Your pictures of her make her look terrifying. Definitely not interested in her.”

“And are you interested in any of Emori’s friends?” Clarke teases.

“Ha,” Bellamy says. “You said you wouldn’t tease me about that.”

“I’m not teasing! I genuinely want to know.”

Bellamy smiles to himself. “Let’s just say I’m not looking for anything right now. It’s like you always say, if it’s meant to be, it will be, right?” Clarke doesn’t answer, and for a moment he thinks maybe she’s fallen asleep. “Clarke?” he prompts, his voice quieter.

“Right,” she agrees. The silence stretches on between them. In person, Bellamy’s sure it wouldn’t be awkward, but on the phone, it makes him feel tense. He needs to know what she’s thinking.

“I’m so tired,” Clarke says, yawning mid-sentence.

Bellamy chuckles affectionately. “You should get some sleep.”

“But I want to talk to you.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow. At a reasonable time.”

“Okay,” Clarke says. He can hear the exhaustion in her voice. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Bellamy whispers back. He swears one of these days he’s going to slip up and say _I love you_ instead. He’s already saying everything but. “Goodnight, Clarke.”

“Goodnight, Bell.”

He hangs up, and the smell of burning onions fills his nostrils.

 

-

 

Though she calls and texts him frequently, Bellamy feels Clarke’s absence constantly. It’s dumb, he knows that. What difference does it make if she’s in Paris or if she’s in New York? Either way she wouldn’t be here with him.

He thinks about her all the time. In class, at the gym, at home. Whether he’s alone, or he’s surrounded by other people. He’ll be out with friends, having a good time, and he’ll catch himself wishing she was there. He’ll turn on the radio in the car on the way to work and he’ll find himself relating the lyrics of every song to her. When he goes to the movies with Octavia and Niylah, or goes camping with Miller and Jackson, or to a bar with Murphy and Emori he gets random pangs of missing her, that being surrounded by happy couples only make worse. He thinks about her when he’s in the shower, or when he’s in bed, stroking his cock until he comes all over himself, her name on his lips.

He wonders if she’s getting laid while she’s in Paris. She probably is. She’s young and hot and single and in a foreign country. She’s probably drowning in hook ups. Is it wrong of him to hope she’s not? He certainly isn’t. He hasn’t had sex since Gina. He really is a totally different person that he was two years ago. It’s not that he’s not horny, because he is, almost constantly. But he just can’t bring himself to fuck somebody that isn’t Clarke. Being in love is fucking stupid sometimes.

It gets to the point where he gets hard just listening to her voice. On a rainy Saturday afternoon, he’s flicking through Netflix, uninterested by everything on offer. His phone rings, and he knows it’s her before he even looks at the screen. Who else would be calling him?

“Hey,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t sound as out of breath as he feels.

“Hey,” Clarke returns, softly. And that’s what makes his cock jump to attention. He imagines her bundled up in bed, in her pyjamas, her hair twirled up in a bun. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find something to watch on Netflix, but there’s nothing good. What are you doing?”

“I was trying to read my book but I can’t get into it.”

“Is it in French?”

“No, it’s in English, dummy,” Clarke says fondly. “Reading in French hurts my brain.”

Bellamy smiles. “What did you do today?” he asks her.

Clarke starts telling him about her day, starting with the time she got up in the morning, as if she knows he won’t be bored by any miniscule detail she wants to include. He’s listening, he really is, but the sound of her husky voice has him rock hard and aching, and he can’t help but slip his hand into his sweat pants and curl his fist around his cock.

He tells himself he’s not allowed to masturbate while he’s on the phone to her, but his hand has a mind of its own. Somehow his cock escapes from his pants, and he strokes himself as he imagines her naked in bed next to him, telling him this story while he fingers her and she tries unsuccessfully not to lose her train of thought. He imagines pinning her down on his bed, kissing her all over, tasting every part of her.

He picks up the pace of his hand on his cock, trying to keep his breathing even as she talks. She’s not even saying anything sexy, and he already got himself off to the thought of her this morning, but he’s suddenly desperate. He wants her now. He wants her naked his lap, wet and squirming. But he can’t have that, so he has to make do with her voice and his hand and his imagination.

He imagines her begging for his cock, in her mouth, in her pussy, in her ass. God, he wants to give it to her. Wants to turn her into a whimpering mess, wants her to beg him to let her come. Wants to tease her to the point of breaking, then make her come so hard she forgets her own name.

He bites his lip, jerking his cock hard and fast, hurtling towards the release he so desperately needs. He pulls his phone away from his ear as he comes, hoping she doesn’t hear the groan that escapes his mouth. He comes hard, spurting his load everywhere, his body spasming. He doesn’t think he’s ever made such a mess.

“Bell?” he hears Clarke say, and he quickly puts the phone back to his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

He swallows. He’s covered in his own come and he feels dirty as hell, but other than that he’s okay.

“Yeah,” he says. “Sorry. Just—moved weird and hurt my arm,” he lies.

“Be careful,” she says.

“Okay,” Bellamy says. He’d be touched by her concern if he wasn’t feeling so disgusted with himself. He really jerked off to the sound of her voice without her knowing about it.

She finishes her story, and though Bellamy would love to keep talking to her, he tells her to get some sleep and hangs up the phone. Mostly because he needs a shower ASAP.

He wonders what she’d think if she knew what he’d done. What he was thinking about as she talked. Would it turn her on? God, he wants to know every little detail of her body, everything she likes, every sound she makes. He’s sure she’s dirty as hell.

It’s with that thought that he lets himself imagine her pressed against the shower wall in front of him, his cock deep inside her, his fingers in her ass.

Fuck, the things he’s going to do to her when she finally comes home.

 

-

 

He has the date of her return marked on his calendar, and in his phone as well. The fifth of July. They’re having a little welcome home party a few nights after she gets back. That’s when he’s going to tell her. It gives her time to settle back into being at home, gives him a chance to make sure things are the way he thinks they are. The way he hopes they are.

Even with her calling him almost every day, with the sweet things she’s saying to him, when he’s at his worst, he doubts everything. Convinces himself it’s all in his head. So he just needs a little bit of time to gauge her feelings before he can dive in. Anyway, there’s no need to rush it. If it turns out she feels the same, well, they’ve already waited a year for each other. What’s another couple of days?

He goes to Octavia’s graduation in June. He sits next to Niylah, and he figures things must be pretty serious between them if she’s at Octavia’s graduation. Not that Octavia talks to him about it. He just has to guess what’s going on in her life, apparently.

He feels a swell of pride as he watches her cross the stage and collect her degree. There were a few times he thought she might not make it here. When their mom died, and Bellamy was sure he would drown in the responsibility of taking care of his eleven-year-old sister, at the same time as putting himself through his last year of college, while working two jobs. When he was terrified they’d see him as an unfit guardian and take her away from him. When she was going through her teenage years, and broke every rule in the book, and a few bones as well.

And somehow, they got here anyway. He finds himself tearing up.

“You must be proud,” Niylah whispers.

Bellamy smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “Maybe I didn’t do such a shitty job of raising her.”

“You definitely didn’t,” Niylah agrees.

He takes Octavia and Niylah out for dinner that night, to celebrate. His shout.

“So, what’s the plan, O?” he asks. “You coming home? Or staying in New York?”

“Well,” Octavia says. She glances at Niylah. “Home, I guess. Except not _home_ home. Niylah and I have actually decided to move in together.”

Bellamy grins. So he was right about it being serious. “Yeah? That’s great, O. Congratulations.”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. In your head. I can tell.”

“I’m just happy you’re happy.”

“Speaking of happy. Are you going to tell Clarke you _looove_ her?” Octavia teases. Strange how she loves to be the centre of attention until they start talking about her personal life. “She’s back in a few weeks.”

“As if I don’t know that.”

“You’re going to tell her, though?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, though the thought still terrifies him. “I’m going to tell her.”


	12. Time to Move On

Bellamy wants to pick her up from the airport, but Clarke tells him her mom is insisting, since she didn’t get to see her off. He’s desperate to see her as soon as possible, but he’s also a rational human being. He can wait to see her.

He doesn’t expect to hear from her the night she gets in, but as he’s getting ready for bed his phone rings, her name on his screen.

“Hey,” he answers. “Are you home?”

“Not yet,” Clarke says. “I just got in the car. Should be home soon. I just wanted you to know I landed safely.”

“I’m glad. How was your flight?”

“It was okay. You know I hate air travel.”

“I know,” Bellamy chuckles. “You jetlagged?”

“Hmm, probably. I do feel pretty exhausted.”

“When can I see you?” he asks, then cringes at how desperate he sounds. Clarke doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll probably just sleep all day tomorrow,” Clarke says. “Maybe unpack.”

“We can just wait until the party, if you want,” Bellamy suggests.

“Okay,” Clarke agrees. Bellamy tries to tell himself he’s not disappointed. “Do you mind if I bring a friend to the party?”

“Clarke, it’s your party,” Bellamy grins. “You can bring whoever you want.”  

“Okay, well, I’ll see you then,” she says.

 

-

 

Bellamy is hosting the party at his house. He wants it to be an intimate evening, where they can all sit around and talk and drink and listen to Clarke’s Parisian adventures.

He’s jittery all afternoon, and he can’t sit still for a single moment. He goes out and buys her flowers. He rearranges the living room. He cooks some finger food for the evening.

People start arriving just before seven, though Clarke isn’t supposed to get there until seven-thirty. He had asked her to come over earlier, wanting to see her before everyone else got there, but apparently she had early dinner plans.

“Is Clarke here yet?” Octavia asks, letting herself into the house, Niylah in tow. Octavia stops when she sees the living room. “Why is it different?”

“Felt like a change,” Bellamy shrugs. He’s still not sitting still. He’s been offering food and drinks to everyone who arrives, walking back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. Jasper tried to put on calming music, but it’s not working.

“He’s nervous,” Miller grins. “He finally gets to see his girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” Bellamy says. Not yet, anyway.

“He even bought her flowers,” Monty interjects, nodding towards the bouquet on the coffee table. He’s looking way too smug for Bellamy’s liking. All of them are. Even Wells. If their roles were reversed, Bellamy is pretty sure he’d hate Wells. And Raven is there too, who he’d managed to get in contact with to invite. He’s known her for all of fifteen minutes, but she’s wearing that stupid smug smile too.

“Stop it,” Bellamy says. “It’s not a big deal.”

Except, it totally is a big deal. Everyone here knows how he feels about Clarke. And tonight, he’s finally going to tell her how he feels too. He’s rehearsed it a million different ways in his head. He feels anxious and hopeful at the same time. He’s almost sure she loves him too. Maybe the timing is finally right.

The doorbell rings, and it has to be Clarke, because everyone else is already here, although it’s odd for her to ring the doorbell and not just come straight in.

“I’ll get it,” Octavia says, already heading for the front door. Bellamy snatches the bouquet of flowers from the coffee table, his heart racing. He knows everyone is watching him. It’s not like he’s going to tell her while everyone else is around. He’s not sure yet if he’s going to wait until everyone is gone, or if he’s going to pull her away for a private moment at some point. He’ll play it by ear.

He hears voices at the door, Octavia, Clarke, and a third woman he doesn’t recognise. Octavia walks back into the room first, and she looks at Bellamy, her brow furrowed. She shakes her head once.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” she mouths. Bellamy frowns at her. Clarke walks into the room then, and Bellamy’s heart just about leaps out of his chest. With her is her friend, Lexa, whom Bellamy recognises from Clarke’s Instagram posts. His eyes fall on their linked hands, and he gets one second of denial before Clarke speaks.

“Hey, everyone,” Clarke smiles. “This is Lexa, my girlfriend.”

He feels like he’s been punched. All the air leaves his lungs, and he wants to throw up. The silence after Clarke’s announcement seems to stretch on forever. He can feel his friends watching him, their pity already starting to seep into his skin. It’s probably only half a second before Harper is the first one to introduce herself to Lexa, and then everyone else is welcoming both Lexa and Clarke home. Bellamy can’t breathe, let alone speak. He’s still clutching the flowers in his hands.

“Are those for me?” Clarke asks him, smiling cheekily. Though it feels as though his very bones ache, Bellamy manages to collect the pieces of himself and pull himself together enough to plaster the best smile he can fake on his face.

“Yeah,” he says. “From all of us,” he adds. This whole situation is embarrassing enough, what with being unknowingly rejected by her in front of all their friends. He doesn’t need her knowing he bought her fucking flowers, like some lovestruck teenager.

“Thanks,” Clarke says, taking them from him. Bellamy feels the smile slipping from his face. His chest and stomach are hollow. Despair bubbles up in his throat, and he swallows it down before it can make itself known to everyone in the room in the form of tears.

“Do either of you want a drink?” he manages.

“Sure,” Clarke says. “I’ll have some wine if you have some.”

“Me too,” Lexa says.

Bellamy makes it to the kitchen before the tears start spilling. He leans against the counter, feeling sick to his stomach. He’s such an idiot. He really convinced himself she loved him too. He’d read into every word she said, every little gesture, spent a year waiting for her, longing for her, sure that when she finally returned, they could be together. And it was all in his head. She never saw him as anything more than a friend.

Octavia walks into the kitchen, and Bellamy quickly wipes his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he says curtly, opening the fridge.

“You’re not,” Octavia says.

He’s not. He’s crushed. All he wants to do is curl up in bed and avoid everyone. But he has to put on a brave face, because Clarke is his friend, and he threw her this party, and it’s not _her_ fault if he deluded himself into believing his feelings for her were mutual.

Bellamy closes the fridge without getting anything out of it. He looks to Octavia, his throat sore from trying to keep his tears at bay.

“I have to be.”

“Bell,” Octavia says softly. He doesn’t think she’s ever looked so concerned about him before.

“How am I supposed to—” he cuts himself off, unsure how to finish the sentence. How to pretend he’s okay? To pretend he’s not jealous, or bitter? How to get over her? How to go on?

“She didn’t tell anyone about her. Maybe it’s not serious.”

“She brought her here, didn’t she?” Bellamy scoffs. “Fuck,” he says. “I just—I really thought she loved me too, you know?”

“She does,” Octavia whispers.

Bellamy tries to blink away the tears welling in his eyes. “Not the way I love her.”

Octavia wraps her arms around him then, and it only makes him cry harder. He hears someone walking into the kitchen and he quickly breaks free from Octavia’s grip and opens the fridge again, to hide his face, wiping his eyes as he does so.

“Do you guys need any help?” Clarke asks. Bellamy’s heart thuds sickeningly.

“No,” Octavia says quickly. “You go and relax. Enjoy yourself. We’ll be out in a minute.”

Once Clarke is gone, Bellamy pulls a bottle of wine out of the fridge. “Should’ve bought more,” he mutters.

“You going to be okay?” Octavia asks.

Bellamy shrugs. “Eventually. Just—help me get through tonight, will you? I don’t want to be alone with her.”

God knows how he gets through the evening. He feels like he’s in another dimension. Like all of this is happening to someone else, and he’s watching from afar.

Clarke sits on the couch with Lexa, pressed up against each other, while they laugh their way through anecdotes about Paris, finishing each other’s sentences.

Bellamy watches her longingly, wishing he could be the one making her happy. He wants her to be happy, of course he does. He loves her smile, her laugh, loves the way her eyes light up. But god, he wishes it was for him.

He hates Lexa. He doesn’t know if he hates her just because he’s jealous, or if it’s the way she only smiles for Clarke, and seems cold towards the rest of them. Does he imagine the sour look she gives him?

His friends keep glancing at him, as if checking that he’s okay. He’s not, but he thinks he’s doing a pretty good job pretending. He knows they’re all feeling sorry for him, and he hates it. He wishes none of them knew. He wishes none of them were there to watch his heart break.

The party winds down just after midnight. Raven is the first to leave, and everyone else follows steadily after that. Octavia sends Niylah home, but stays to help Bellamy clean up. Clarke hovers, helping them put dishes in the dishwasher, while Lexa waits awkwardly on the couch. Bellamy wishes they’d just go, and leave him in peace.

Clarke starts filling the kitchen sink with water, to wash the things that don’t fit in the dishwasher.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says. It’s the first time he’s said her name all night. “Don’t worry about it. You guys go, Octavia and I will clean up.”

Clarke hesitates. “Are you sure?”

Bellamy nods. “Yeah. Go.”

“Okay,” Clarke says. “Thank for the party,” she smiles. “I had a really good time.”

“I’m glad,” Bellamy says. And he is glad.

Clarke steps towards him, then circles her arms around his neck. His arms close around her and she buries her head into his shoulder. He closes his eyes breathes her in, the scent of her hair, her perfume. It feels like so much more than just a casual _goodbye, thanks for the party_ hug. He doesn’t want to ever let her go.

“I really missed you,” Clarke whispers.

“I missed you too,” Bellamy says. He’s the one to break the hug. Not because he wants to, but because it hurts too much to hold her like that when he knows it’s never going to be anything more. When her girlfriend is sitting out there in his living room.

He walks her to the front door with Lexa, offers Lexa a polite _nice to meet you_ , then waves them goodbye. When he turns around, Octavia is watching him.

“I guess it’s time to move on, huh?” he says, screwing up his mouth. He has no idea how he’s going to do that. It might be impossible.

“She’s not all that anyway,” Octavia jokes.

Bellamy huffs out a laugh, tears in his eyes again. “Wish I believed that.” A short silence passes. “You can go, if you want,” Bellamy says. “No need to stick around and watch me mope. I’ll probably just go to bed and leave the rest of the cleaning up until the morning.”

“Okay,” Octavia agrees. “Don’t go feeling too sorry for yourself.”

“No promises.”

She hugs him goodbye, then leaves to return home to her girlfriend. Bellamy heads straight to bed. He pulls his clothes off, then crawls under the covers. Thoughts of Clarke consume him, as they always do. His heart aches when he thinks about how a few hours ago, he had it in his head that he’d be falling asleep with Clarke in his bed tonight.

He feels so fucking _hopeless_. He knows he has no one to blame but himself. He let himself imagine a life with Clarke, he let himself have hope, make plans in his head. God, he even imagined _proposing_ to her. He set himself up for disappointment, and he broke his own heart.

He hasn’t cried himself to sleep since his mom died, but tonight, he can’t keep the tears from falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you can eventually forgive me for this. 
> 
> I know most of you guessed this would happen, but I wasn't about to change it just because you guys figured it out. That would be bad writing.


	13. Not a Gentleman

Bellamy wakes up late the next morning. For a moment he feels content, still lost in the bliss of whatever it was he dreamed about last night. Then he remembers what happened before he went to sleep, and his heart breaks all over again.

He looks over at the empty space beside him in his bed, thinking about how Clarke should be there. He’s so tired of waking up alone.

He drags himself out of bed, and heads towards the kitchen, not bothering to get dressed. If he can’t have Clarke, coffee will have to do.

As he passes through the living room, he notices the flowers he bought her still sitting on the coffee table. Of course she didn’t want them. It was a stupid idea to buy them in the first place. Every idea he’s ever had in his head has been stupid, especially the ones to do with Clarke.

He snatches the flowers from the table and continues to the kitchen, throwing them in the trash when he gets there. He doesn’t want any evidence of his humiliation last night. He makes his coffee in a trance, then leans against the counter to drink it, burning his tongue as soon as he takes a sip.

“Fuck,” he swears, putting the mug down. He hears the front door open then close. “O?” he calls.

“It’s me,” Clarke’s voice answers him. His heart skitters and his throat goes dry. He knew he’d have to see her at some point, but he wasn’t exactly expecting it to be right now. He panics. He’s not prepared to face her. He’s not even dressed.

She walks into the kitchen, smile on her face. “Hey,” she says. Her eyes drop to his bare chest, then lower, to where he’s only wearing a very small pair of boxers. “Oh, you’re um—not dressed. Sorry.” She flushes.

“Just got up,” Bellamy explains, red-faced. “I’ll go put some clothes on.”

Clarke nods, and Bellamy hurries to his bedroom. He throws on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and heads back to the kitchen, heart still pounding erratically. He has no idea how to be around her. How to pretend he’s not in love with her.

When he walks back into the kitchen, she’s holding the bouquet he’d thrown in the trash. He swallows as she meets his eyes.

“You threw them out,” she says.

“Figured you didn’t want them,” he shrugs.

“I just forgot,” Clarke says. “Sorry. That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh. Well, I only just put them in there. They should still be fine.” Clarke nods. The silence between them feels strained and awkward, at least to Bellamy. He hates it. “Do you want a coffee or something?” he asks.

“Sure,” Clarke agrees. She takes a seat on one of the kitchen stools at the counter, and Bellamy gets the coffee maker going again. Bellamy wracks his brain for something to say to her, something normal, something that won’t give him away.

It hurts to look at her, but he can’t stop. Her hair has grown out now, the pink long gone. She’s got it tied up in a ponytail, and she’s wearing little silver butterfly earrings. Bellamy wonders if Lexa gave them to her. He lowers his eyes, just to see if she’s still wearing the necklace he gave her. She’s not. It makes his stomach drop all over again.

“Did you have a good time last night?” Bellamy settles on.

“Yeah, thank you,” Clarke says. “It was good to see everyone again. It’s kind of weird being back though.”

“You miss Paris?”

Clarke shrugs. “Not really. Just means I have to start thinking about what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”

“Thought you would have had it all planned out by now,” Bellamy smiles. He hands her the cup of coffee.

“I was going to apply for graduate positions and internships in New York, but I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I kind of want to stay here. At least for now. You know any jobs I can apply for?”

“Well, Octavia says they’re always looking for more personal trainers at the gym she works at. But somehow I don’t think that’s really your thing,” Bellamy grins.

Clarke laughs. “No, definitely not.”

“You should try the art gallery. Or I think they have an art program at the retirement village, maybe they need someone there,” Bellamy says.

“Okay, good idea,” Clarke beams. Bellamy breathes. Maybe he can do this after all. Be just her friend. He’s been doing it a hell of a long time already. She’s always going to come to him for advice, for comfort. Maybe that can be enough for him. As long as she’s happy.

It’s a nice thought, but the illusion comes crashing down as soon as she speaks again.

“So, what did you think of Lexa?” she asks, fiddling with one of her earrings. She’s nervous about what he thinks of her new girlfriend. He can’t tell her that just the mention of Lexa’s name fills him with utter loathing.

“I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to her,” Bellamy says carefully.

“You’re going to like her, I know it.”

Bellamy smiles sadly. “I hope so,” he says. And then, because apparently he’s some kind of masochist, “So, when did it happen? You and Lexa?”

“Oh, um—it was in Rome.”

“Rome,” Bellamy repeats. Four months ago. While he was desperately wishing to be in Rome with Clarke, deluding himself into believing she wanted him to be there with her, she was fucking Lexa. Falling for Lexa.

“Yeah,” Clarke nods. “I didn’t really see it coming honestly. We were at the colosseum, and she just kissed me out of nowhere. And you had just told me the night before that if something is meant to be, it will be, right? So I thought, why not?”

Bellamy stares at her. Is it possible she’s with Lexa because of some stupid thing he said to her over the phone? He was talking about _him_ and Clarke. It should’ve been _him_ kissing Clarke at the colosseum. He should be kissing her right now.

He feels something lodge in his throat. He can’t do this. He doesn’t know how to be around her without thinking about kissing her, or holding her hand, or making love to her. He can’t bear to look at her pretty eyes, or her joyous smile, knowing they’re always going to be for someone else. It aches like nothing else.

“Sounds very romantic,” he manages.

“And what about you?” Clarke says. “Have you been seeing anyone? Did you get Emori to set you up?”

_God, isn’t it obvious?_ he wants to scream. _I was waiting for you. I only want you._

He shakes his head slowly. “Nothing serious,” he says. He doesn’t need to tell her he hasn’t dated in over a year. Hasn’t had sex in over a year. It’s just been him and his hand, thinking of her, and all the while she was already with someone else.

“You haven’t given up, have you?” Clarke teases.

“I think maybe I just changed my mind. Maybe marriage isn’t for me.” He doesn’t give her a chance to respond to that. Doesn’t need her pity or her reassurances. “Listen, I’ve actually got a lot to do today,” he lies. “But maybe we can catch up some other time.” Like in a few months, when he’s finally over her. He hopes.

“Oh, okay,” Clarke says. “Well, thanks for the coffee. And the flowers.”

“They were from everyone,” Bellamy says quickly.

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “The card says _love, Bellamy_.”

Bellamy shrugs. “Couldn’t fit all the names on.”

“If you say so,” she says. She gives him a one-armed hug that he doesn’t return, and then, mercifully, she’s gone.

 

-

 

Murphy suggests going out for a drink or two the following night, and Bellamy figures he may as well. All his other plans are shot to hell now anyway. Not that he actually had any concrete plans. Usually he’d plan a hiking trip, or something else that gets him away for a few weeks. Occasionally he’s been known to volunteer for a summer camp, although he’s less inclined to do that these days.

But he didn’t make any plans this year, because he was hoping he and Clarke could make plans together when she got back. He’d imagined they’d spend at _least_ a week just lying around the house, talking and fucking. Now his whole summer looks empty and bleak.

Murphy tells Bellamy to meet him at their usual spot at 8, but at quarter past, he still hasn’t shown, and Bellamy has almost finished his first drink. He’s surprised no one has tried to hit on him yet. Maybe he really has lost his game. Or maybe he’s giving off sad pathetic loser, in-love-with-someone-else vibes.

His phone vibrates with a text from Clarke.

**_What are you doing tonight?_ **

He doesn’t open it, just turns his phone over so it’s face down on the table in front of him. He swallows the last drops of whiskey in his glass, then looks towards the bar, wondering if he should get another or just go home. Who knows if Murphy is even coming.

His phone buzzes again, and he flips it over, on the off chance it’s Clarke telling him she broke up with Lexa and she needs him desperately. It’s Murphy.

**_Be there soon, get me and Emori a couple of beers will you?_ **

Bellamy sighs as he gets up. Looks like he’s staying after all. He trudges over to the bar, then rests his forearms on it, waiting for his turn to be served. It only takes a moment before the girl who looks barely old enough to drink herself asks him what he wants.

Before he can answer, the woman standing next to him gives a dramatic huff.

“Seriously?” she snaps at the bartender. “I’ve been waiting way longer than he has.”

The bartender glares at her. “Fine. What do you want?”

“Rum and coke,” the annoyed woman says. She’s pretty, Bellamy thinks, despite her sour look. Tall, good body, nice eyes. And he’s got to start trying to move on from Clarke, right?

“I’ll get hers,” Bellamy says quickly. “And I’ll have a whiskey on the rocks. And two beers, whatever the cheapest is.”

The bartender nods, and Bellamy turns to the woman next to him.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says. “It’s not your fault.”

“My pleasure,” Bellamy shrugs. “I’m Bellamy.”

“Echo,” she returns. “Listen, before you get carried away, I should tell you I’m meeting someone here tonight.”

“That’s a shame,” Bellamy says. “Well, maybe if things don’t work out with him, come find me later,” he says. Echo raises an eyebrow at him, as if she’s trying to remain unimpressed, but he thinks he can see a slight smile flit across her face. He’s still got it.

The bartender places Echo’s drink in front of her, shortly followed by Bellamy’s and then the beers. A hand claps Bellamy roughly on the back and he flinches.

“Oh good, you did get my text,” Murphy says, reaching for a beer. “And you’ve met Echo.”

“You guys know each other?”

“Yeah,” Murphy says. He looks over his shoulder. “Emori!” he yells. “Stop trying to swindle that poor guy and come over here.”

She hurries over, after an apologetic look at the guy she was talking to. “He was totally going to invest in our app,” Emori says, annoyed.

“That’s not why we’re here,” Murphy reminds her.

“Right,” Emori nods. “So, Bellamy, this is my friend Echo. The one John and I were telling you about.”

Bellamy frowns in confusion. He doesn’t remember Emori ever telling him about a specific woman. She and Murphy have always been very vague about her many single friends. And apparently they’ve been just as vague to Echo about him, because she seems just as surprised as he is.

“This is the guy?” Echo asks Emori. Emori nods.

“Is he okay?”

“I’m right here.”

Echo smirks. “Considering he just bought me a drink, he seems okay to me.”

“Great!” Murphy says. “Introductions are all done, let’s find a table and get to know each other better, shall we?”

The conversation is a little stilted at first, as Bellamy tries to ask Echo all the awkward getting-to-know-you questions. She doesn’t seem to want to talk about her family, or her other friends, or about her life before she moved here two years ago. But Bellamy is fine with it. He’s not looking for _forever_ with Echo. He’s looking for something to ease the pain, to help him get over Clarke, so he can find someone who _is_ for forever.

She does tell him a little about her job (she’s a cop) and her work out routine. She suggests they go hiking together sometime, and since Bellamy doesn’t have any other plans, he agrees.

He gets another text from Clarke.

**_If you’re not busy tomorrow we should do something_ **

**_Lexa went back to DC and I miss you_ **

Bellamy’s stomach churns. He leaves her messages unopened and focuses his attention on Echo, who’s gorgeous, and flirting with him, and who is definitely going to sleep with him tonight. He hopes he can remember how to do it.

Murphy and Emori leave at around eleven, but he stays with Echo a little longer, working up the courage to ask her back to his place, even though he’s certain she’s going to say yes.

“I think I’m going to head home,” Bellamy says eventually, just before twelve.

“So soon?”

“You’re welcome to join me. Uber is cheaper if we split it.”

“A gentleman would pay for the Uber.”

Bellamy grins wolfishly. “I’m not a gentleman.”

Echo laughs, for the first time that night. It’s a harsh bark, nothing like Clarke’s warm, infectious joy. Echo’s smile seems constantly forced too. Bellamy scolds himself inwardly. Of course Echo isn’t like Clarke. And that’s a good thing.

“Let’s go,” Echo says.

Bellamy ends up paying for the Uber, not that it’s expensive. He doesn’t waste any time once they’re inside his front door. She knows what his intentions are, she kisses him back the same way she laughs. It’s not totally unpleasant, but neither is it the best kiss he’s ever had. At least he remembers how to do it.

He leads her to his bedroom, then gets her off with his fingers first, knowing that once he’s inside her he’ll probably come embarrassingly fast. He definitely doesn’t tell her he hasn’t had sex in over a year, because then she’ll probably ask why, and that will lead him to think about Clarke, which he’s not doing anymore.

He makes sure Echo is satisfied, and when they’re done, she falls asleep in his bed almost immediately. Bellamy disposes of the condom and cleans himself up before getting back into bed next to her. He lies awake for hours, feeling empty, pretending he’s not thinking about Clarke, even though she’s all he can think about.

But he’s started, at least. Started the process of moving on. It’s going to be long and painful, he knows. But it’s the only option he has. He can’t spend the rest of his life longing for her.


	14. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically I still have the epilogue to write but you guys have suffered long enough, so I will be posting twice a week from now on.
> 
> Also! I've just seen than nominations for bfwa are now open so if you feel like nominating your favourite authors/fics you should go check it out on tumblr. And if that includes me I won't be mad hahaha

Being with Echo is surprisingly easy. Bellamy doesn’t have to fake an interest in her past because she doesn’t want to share. She lets him set the boundaries for their relationship, which isn’t quite _just sex,_ but it’s also not leading towards anything serious. At least, that’s how Bellamy feels. He hasn’t actually discussed it with Echo, but since she doesn’t bring it up, he figures she’s fine with whatever.

He doesn’t know what Murphy and Emori said to Echo about him, about what he was looking for or why he was looking for it, and she doesn’t offer the information up. If it’s anything like what they told him about Echo, then probably nothing.

He continues to ignore any messages he gets from Clarke, or he responds with brief one or two word sentences like, _I’m busy_ or _Can’t, sorry_. Eventually, the texts become less frequent. Instead of everyday, it’s every second day, and then once a week. He wonders how long it will be until she stops entirely. He feels guilty, and he knows she’s probably wondering what she did wrong. He wants to answer her, to spend time with her. He wants to spend every second with her. But he can’t because it hurts to even look at her, knowing she’ll never be his. He doesn’t think he can properly be her friend again until he’s sure he’s over her. So for now, he lies, and says he’s busy, and he hopes she’ll eventually forgive him for being so selfish.

Echo is a good distraction. For a month, he spends more than half his time with her, fucking, mostly. He needs it after going so long without sex. He needs it to keep his mind off Clarke, to stop himself from scrolling through her social media, from agonizing over all the time he wasted waiting for her, from imagining her with Lexa.

He doesn’t tell Echo about Clarke, and he doesn’t tell Clarke about Echo. It’s not like there’s anything to tell either of them anyway. What would he even say?

_Clarke, I’m casually seeing this woman called Echo. The reason I’m telling you this is because I want you to know that I’m absolutely not in love with you anymore and it’s all thanks to Echo._

_Echo, I’m only with you so I can forget about the woman I’m really in love with. Her name is Clarke and sometimes I think about her when I’m fucking you. But there’s no need to worry because she doesn’t want me, and anyway I’m not even sure we’re friends anymore because I’ve barely spoken to her in over a month._

There’s no need for either of them to know about each other. And if it makes his life easier to keep them separate, then that’s just a bonus.

Echo accompanies him on all his nights out with Murphy and Miller now, the same way Gina had when they were a couple. The same way Emori and Jackson are fixtures in their group now. To the casual observer, the six of them sitting around a table at their usual bar would look like three couples. And as Bellamy finds his arm around Echo, and her hand on his knee, he wonders if they’re not.

Does he want Echo to be his girlfriend? Would that be such a terrible thing if she became more than just a rebound? He’s beginning to have his suspicions that she does want to be more than just a fling. He wonders if that was always the case and he was just seeing what he wanted to see.

The facts are, he likes her. The sex is pretty great, and she fits in perfectly with his friends. And best of all, she’s not Clarke. She’s nothing like Clarke, and when he’s with her, he forgets about Clarke. For the most part.

He glances at her now, smiling as Emori teases Murphy about something. He doesn’t get that stomach swoop the way he does with Clarke. She doesn’t make his heart race unless she’s about to put his cock in her mouth. But she’s comfortable, and maybe that’s what Bellamy needs.

“Anyone want another drink?” Bellamy asks, standing up.

“I’ll have another,” Echo says.

“Me too,” Emori agrees, and Miller and Jackson chorus their agreement.

“I’ll help,” Murphy says, which is out of character for him. Bellamy learns of his ulterior motive as they wait at the bar for their drinks. “So, Emori and I did good, right?” Murphy smirks. “It’s been a month and Echo has barely left your side.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes.  “Yeah, you did good.”

“So when are you guys getting married?”

“Shut up. It’s not that serious.”

“That’s still what you want though, right? Marriage?”

“Is that what you told her?”

Murphy shrugs. “No. We barely told her anything. Just that we wanted to set her up with someone.”

“Does _she_ want marriage?”

“I have no idea.”

“You’re really no help at all, you know that?”

“I resent that.”

Bellamy sighs. “Look, it’s only been a month. I’m just going to see where it goes.”

“What about your biological clock?”

“Would you shut up? Maybe I don’t even want kids.”

“You’d want kids if it was Clarke.”

“Can we not talk about her? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m trying to get over her.”

“Good luck with that.”

 

-

 

That night, as he’s scrolling through Facebook, Echo in bed beside him, his phone vibrates, Clarke’s face lighting up his screen. He stares at her picture, trying unsuccessfully not to feel anything. He doesn’t answer. It’s the first time she’s tried to call him since the night she got back from Paris.

As he lets the call ring out, he panics. It’s late, and she’s calling. What if she’s in trouble? He waits a minute, and then a notification lets him know he has a voicemail. He hits play and puts the phone to his ear.

“ _I guess you’re busy again_ ,” Clarke’s voice says. “ _Or asleep, I guess. Everything’s fine. I just really want to talk to you. I miss you._ _Call me. Or text me. Or something._ ” The message ends, and he puts his phone back on the bedside table. Why does he feel disappointed? Why is always hoping she’ll say something else? That she loves him? That she wants him?

It’s so pathetic that he’s still holding out some kind of sick hope that she’ll wake up one day and realise it’s been him all along. He doesn’t _want_ to keep hoping. He’s tired of her breaking his heart every time she opens her mouth.

Echo shifts closer to him. “Who was that?” she murmurs, pressing her lips against his neck.

“No one you know,” he says. He turns onto his side, and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Echo,” he whispers. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Echo opens her eyes.

“You can say no,” Bellamy says quickly. “You can say no and we can keep just doing what we’re doing.”

“I kind of thought I already was your girlfriend,” Echo says.

“Oh,” Bellamy says. “I guess it’s official now, then?”

Echo smiles, and gives him a peck on the lips. “Has anyone ever told you you kind of suck at relationships?”

Bellamy is sure Gina probably told him that once or twice. “This is only my second one,” Bellamy says. “Give me a break.”

“Fine. Break granted. Boyfriend. Now be quiet, I want my beauty sleep.”

 

-

 

He wakes up expecting to feel different. But everything is exactly the same. Echo is there, in his bed. And she’s his girlfriend now, but it doesn’t make any difference. There’s no rush of adrenalin, or squeeze of fondness, or giddy happiness. It just is.

And he’s still in love with Clarke, but that’s fine too. Because he has Echo, and he doesn’t need Clarke anymore, and eventually his heart will realise that too. It’s not going to happen overnight.

He and Echo go for a run together, a habit they’ve gotten into each time she stays over. He usually prefers to exercise alone, but it’s not so bad to have some company. And the showering together after is pretty great, and the making out on the couch instead of turning the TV on like he planned.

“Okay, I actually have to go,” Echo says, standing up. “Not all of us are on a three month break from work.”

“If you had to deal with the kids I have to deal with, you’d understand why we need it.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Echo says. She leans down to kiss him again, and when she pulls away and Bellamy follows her eyes to the door, Clarke is standing there. His stomach drops. He hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. Her face is bright red, and she looks mortified to have walked in on them kissing. Bellamy’s own face feels hot too, and his tongue feels heavy. 

“Who are you?” Echo asks.

“I’m Clarke,” she says. This means nothing to Echo, of course. Bellamy has never so much as mentioned Clarke to her. So she’s probably wondering what the hell some girl who’s not even important enough to mention is doing just wandering into his house unannounced.

“Octavia’s friend,” Bellamy says quickly. Clarke looks at him, hurt flashing across her face.

“Octavia’s not here,” Echo says.

Clarke lifts her chin. “I came here to talk to Bellamy, actually.”

Echo gives him a look like _who is this chick?_ Bellamy shrugs. Echo rolls her eyes.

“Okay, well I have to go.” She kisses Bellamy again, and he stiffens. He hates himself, but he doesn’t want Clarke to see. Clarke and Bellamy both watch Echo leave, and Clarke doesn’t turn back to him until they hear the door close.

“Octavia’s friend?” Clarke says bitterly.

Bellamy stands up. “What are you doing here?” he asks, trying not to sound too accusatory.

“I thought I was always welcome.”

“You are.”

Clarke swallows. Her eyes are big and sad, and she looks so small and vulnerable. All he wants to do is hold her and make her feel better. He stands his ground.

“I just wanted to see you,” she says. “You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not.”

“You _are_.”

Bellamy clenches his jaw. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he also can’t deny it again. She knows. It’s not like he didn’t know she’d figure it out. He just kind of hoped she’d accept it and move on.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Clarke asks.

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. “Her name is Echo.”

“How long have you been seeing her?”

Bellamy shrugs. “About a month.”

Clarke gives a humourless laugh. “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me. Your girlfriend is more important than your friend.”

“I’m not avoiding you on purpose, Clarke,” Bellamy huffs. “I’ve just got other things on my mind. I have a life outside you, you know.”

Clarke flinches. “I _know_. But I thought we were _friends_ , asshole. But apparently I’m just _Octavia’s_ friend.”

“I didn’t want her jumping to conclusions about why there was a strange woman barging into my house.”

Clarke’s mouth forms a thin line. “You could’ve told me about her.”

“Same way you told me about Lexa, you mean?” Bellamy snaps. “Or Finn, for that matter?”

Clarke opens her mouth, then quickly closes it again. “I didn’t tell anyone about Lexa.” Bellamy doesn’t see why the distinction is important.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You want me to tell you about the woman I’m dating, when we’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks. Meanwhile, you were with Lexa for _months_ and you never said a fucking word. You talked to me every fucking day on the phone, told me everything you were doing, every fucking little detail, except, oh, you forgot one major thing: your fucking girlfriend. I feel like you lied to me. You made me think—” he stops, cutting himself off before he can accidentally confess things he doesn’t want to confess. _You made me think you loved me. You made me think we could be together._

“Made you think what?” Clarke yells.

Bellamy takes a moment to collect his thoughts. He takes a deep breath, and he’s less angry when he speaks this time. “You made me think I wasn’t important enough to know about her.”

“And then you did the exact same thing to me,” Clarke says.

“Well, now you know how it feels,” he says tersely.

“So, what? You didn’t tell me about her just to get back at me? Why didn’t you just tell me you were upset?”

“Of course not. I would _never_ intentionally hurt you, Clarke,” he says. “You know that.”

Clarke has the decency to look ashamed of herself. “I know,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t important to me. You are. I promise you are.”

Bellamy can already feel himself softening. He can feel the urge to comfort her surge in his heart, and he doesn’t know how long he can hold himself back from her. “I know,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Lexa,” Clarke continues. “I should have. But it was so sudden, and I didn’t know what it was at first. And then it became something, and I wanted to tell you. But I just—I just wanted you to meet her before you judged her.”

Bellamy feels guilty at that. She obviously remembers how harshly he judged Finn, even before the asshole showed his true colours. He supposes he can’t blame her for worrying about his reaction to Lexa.

“I’m sorry too,” Bellamy says hoarsely. “I’m sorry I haven’t made time for you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Echo.”

Clarke nods. A tear trickles down her cheek. He wonders how long she’s been trying to keep them at bay.

“Is it—is it serious between you two?”

“Kind of.”

Clarke screws up her mouth. “I thought you said you’d given up. That you didn’t want to get married anymore.”

Bellamy shrugs. “Well, I haven’t proposed yet,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Clarke gives a watery laugh. “Come here,” Bellamy says. He holds out his arms, and Clarke crosses to him in two strides, wrapping herself around him. He holds her tightly while she presses her lips to his shoulder. His heart races, and his body yearns for her, and yet at the same time, with Clarke in his arms, he feels totally at peace.

“Promise you won’t shut me out again,” Clarke whispers.

“I promise,” Bellamy says, because what else can he say? He hates to see her in pain, and he certainly doesn’t want to be the cause of it. So if she needs him in her life, he has to be there, even if it hurts. Even if he never gets over her. Oh god, what if he never gets over her?

She breaks the hug eventually, after how long Bellamy has no idea. Not long enough.

“We should double date sometime,” Clarke grins. “I really want you to get to know Lexa.”

Bellamy can’t think of anything worse. He forces a smile. “Yeah,” he says. “Sounds great.”


	15. So Stay Here

The worst thing about making up with Clarke, is that now Bellamy has to try and explain to Echo who she is, what she is to him, and why he didn’t tell his girlfriend about her before. He obviously can’t tell Echo the _truth_. Not the whole truth anyway, not if he wants to keep his girlfriend. Which he does.

He starts responding to Clarke’s texts again, which go back to being just as frequent as before. He tries not to spend too much time on his phone while he’s with Echo, but evidently, he’s not successful, and Echo notices.

“Who are you always texting?” she asks, annoyed, as Bellamy puts his phone face down on the table. They’re supposed to be on a date, and he probably shouldn’t have his phone out at all. He should be focused on Echo.

He still hasn’t come up with a good excuse as to why he never mentioned Clarke before, but he knows he has to say something. He can’t lie about who he’s texting, because if Echo happens to look at his phone and find out the truth, she’ll be even more suspicious.

“Just Clarke,” he says, as if it’s no big deal. Because it’s not.

“Clarke?” Echo frowns. “The one you said was Octavia’s friend?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. “She is Octavia’s friend. They went to school together.”

“So why are _you_ texting her?” He can see that Echo has her hackles raised, ready to attack if need be. Her eyes are narrowed, her suspicion seeping into his skin. “What is she to you?”

“Well…” Bellamy swallows. “She’s my best friend.”

“Your best friend?”

Bellamy nods. He hadn’t even thought about if before he said it out loud, really, but now he realises it’s true. She’s his best friend. The one person he enjoys spending time with the most, who he trusts more than anyone. He knows he’s probably not _her_ best friend, but that’s okay.

“I thought Miller was your best friend.”

“They both are.”

“So why did you never mention your so-called best friend to me before she randomly showed up at your house? And then you told me she was _Octavia’s_ friend.”

This is the tricky part. “We were in a fight,” Bellamy shrugs. “I was mad at her and I didn’t want to talk about her or to her. But we’ve made up now.”

He can see Echo start to relax, and he can feel his own stress start to dissipate. She believes him, she’s not threatened by his friendship with Clarke. Echo takes a sip from the wine glass in front of her.

“What were you fighting about?”

“She didn’t tell me about her new girlfriend. Thought I would hate her or something.”

“Do you hate her?”

“No,” Bellamy lies. “I barely know her.”

“Maybe you should get to know her,” Echo shrugs. “Since Clarke is apparently your best friend. And perhaps I should get to know Clarke.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Bellamy says. More lies. Why does the thought of Echo and Clarke spending time together make him feel so uneasy? It’s only natural that his girlfriend would want to get to know his best friend. He can’t keep them separate forever.

“And maybe you could let your best friend know we’re on a date?” Echo hints, as his phone vibrates again.

“Right, of course,” Bellamy grins sheepishly.

Clarke already knows he’s on a date, of course. She just doesn’t seem to care about interrupting it. He grabs his phone from the table and tucks it into his pocket. He can message Clarke later, once Echo has fallen asleep.

 

-

 

Before he knows it, his summer break is over and he’s back at school. He’s glad to be back at work, the break is usually just a little too long for him. Being idle doesn’t suit him.  

Echo doesn’t bring up getting to know Clarke again. Bellamy isn’t sure if she doesn’t actually want to, or if she’s waiting for him to suggest it.  

He hasn’t even seen much of Clarke himself lately, though they did hang out once or twice before she decided to take a trip to DC to stay with Lexa for a couple of weeks, before she started her new job at the art gallery. She told him the pay is not that great, and it’s only part time, but since she’s living with her mom, and doesn’t have to pay rent, then it’s enough for now.

She starts the job the day he goes back to school, and he intends to call her when he gets home to ask her how it went. Only, when he opens his front door, he finds that calling her will be unnecessary, seeing as she’s already sitting on his couch, watching an episode of Friends.

She jumps up when he enters the room, not bothering to pause the TV. Bellamy dumps his things by the door, so by the time she’s throwing her arms around him, he’s free to hug her back. He laughs at her enthusiasm, while ignoring all the signs that tell him he’s still hopelessly in love with her. The racing of his heart, tight grip of his arms around her, the swell of contentment he feels at having her in his house when he arrived home from work. It’s a work in progress.

“Hey,” he says, trying to tone down his giddy happiness at seeing her, and having her surprise him like this. He breaks out of her arms. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” she says. “I missed you while I was in DC.”

“I missed you too,” he says. “I want to hear all about your first day of work. Echo’s coming over later so—”

“So I can finally meet her properly?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says. Not what he had been going to say. He was going to suggest they make this quick and catch up properly another time. But he’s not about to kick her out, and Echo _did_ say she wanted to get to know Clarke.

Bellamy follows Clarke to the couch, and she settles herself next to him, too close probably, but he doesn’t bother to shift himself away from her. She fills him on her first day, and he tells her all about his, and when the doorbell rings it almost gives Bellamy a heart attack. He’d forgotten he was expecting anyone.

“That will be Echo,” he remembers. He gets up to get the door and lets her inside. She gives him a kiss, and Bellamy leads her through to the living room, where Clarke is waiting, standing by the couch, looking nervous.

Echo stops dead.

“Hi,” Clarke says brightly. Bellamy can hear the anxiety in her voice. She must really want Echo to like her. “I’m Clarke. Bellamy’s friend.”

“Echo,” Echo returns. “His girlfriend.”

“I know,” Clarke says hurriedly. “He’s told me a lot about you.”

Echo smiles at that, turning to Bellamy, then back to Clarke. “Well, I haven’t heard that much about you, so you better fill me in.”

The night goes surprisingly smoothly. Bellamy cooks, and the two women get to know each other. They seem to get along, a relief to Bellamy. When they sit down to eat, Bellamy takes the spot next to Echo, across from Clarke.

They don’t talk much as they eat, perhaps they’ve finally run out of things to talk about.

“That was really nice, Bell,” Clarke says, once they’re done. “Thanks for cooking.”

“That’s funny,” Echo smiles. “I’ve only ever heard Octavia call you Bell before.”

Bellamy shrugs. “Clarke is like a second sister to me.”

Clarke smiles tightly and takes a sip of her wine. Bellamy slings his arm around Echo’s shoulders, a reassuring gesture, in case she picked up on any in-love-with-Clarke vibes he might have let slip. In case referring to her as his sister isn’t enough.

Clarke puts her wine glass down. “I should go,” she says quickly. “Do you want me to help clean up?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll do it,” Bellamy says. “I’ll see you later.”

Clarke nods, and then she gets up from the table and leaves.

“Thank god she’s gone,” Echo grins. “I’ve been wanting you to fuck me all night.”

“I should clean up first.”

“That can wait,” Echo says. “Come on.”

She gets up, tugging on his hand until he follows. And when he’s done fucking her, he gets up and cleans the kitchen.

 

-

 

After that night, barely a day goes by where Bellamy doesn’t see Clarke. Sometimes she visits him at school on her lunchbreak. Sometimes she drops by his house, always unannounced, uncaring if Echo is there or not. He’s beginning to wonder if maybe she thinks she lives there.

The only times he can be sure he’ll have any alone time with Echo are the weekends Clarke flies to DC to see Lexa, once every two or three weeks. And each time she gets back, he’s subjected to a half hour long rant about the girlfriend she claims to love.

Usually she starts with, “It would be nice if once in a while Lexa would come and see me, instead of the other way around.” A sentiment Bellamy agrees with. It does seem very one-sided.

The more Clarke talks about Lexa, the more Bellamy dislikes her. And it’s not just because she’s Clarke’s girlfriend, it’s because she’s Clarke’s girlfriend and she doesn’t even appreciate that she’s Clarke’s girlfriend. Bellamy wants to fly to DC himself and inform Lexa of how lucky she is to have Clarke.

Echo is there when Clarke comes over after she gets back from DC this time. Clarke walks into the house, takes the bowl of homemade popcorn from Bellamy’s hands, and sits on the other end of the couch from where he and Echo are cuddling.

“What are we watching?” she asks. Bellamy pauses the movie.

“How was DC?” he asks.

Clarke shrugs. “Good. It’s always good to see Lexa.”

“But?”

She shrugs again, looking down into the popcorn bowl. “She wants me to move to DC. She thinks I could get a better job there, or maybe go back to school. She thinks I’m wasting my degree. And my life, apparently.”

“She sounds awful,” Echo says. “You should break up with her. Right now. Go and do it now.” Bellamy gives Echo a warning squeeze as Clarke gives her a scowl. “Sorry,” Echo mutters.

Bellamy agrees with Echo on this one, but he’s not about to say so. He still remembers vividly the last time he tried to tell Clarke what to do with her love life. “What do _you_ want?” Bellamy asks.

“I want to stay here.”

He hopes his relieved exhale isn’t too obvious. “So stay here. Tell her she can move here if she wants.”

Clarke nods thoughtfully. Echo reaches for the remote to press play again, but Clarke isn’t done. She turns to face them.

“Can I ask your advice on something?”

“Of course,” Bellamy says.

“How much is a normal amount for someone to talk about their ex? Wells never had an ex before me, and Finn never talked about any past relationships.”

“I would say none is a good amount,” Echo says. “I don’t want to hear about the past.”

“I think it depends,” Bellamy says. “I kind of like to know the history of the person I’m dating, just to get to know them better. Gina and I had maybe one or two conversations about it. A couple of times she might have mentioned the guy she dated before me in passing. Why are you asking?”

“Lexa talks about her ex _all_ the time,” Clarke says.

“Like complains about her?” Bellamy asks.

“Sometimes,” Clarke says. She chews her lip. “But she says a lot of nice stuff about her too.”

Everything Clarke says about Lexa is a red flag. Bellamy wants to tell her so. Wants to tell her to get out of that relationship before she gets her heart broken. But he can’t, not after what happened with Finn. He can try to gently nudge her in the right direction, but he can’t tell her what to do.

“Maybe you should talk to Lexa about it,” Bellamy says cautiously. “Tell her it bothers you.”

Clarke nods thoughtfully. “Okay. Maybe.”  

Echo presses play on the movie again. Not three minutes later, Clarke pipes up again.

“What are you guys doing next weekend? There’s this exhibition on at the museum that I want to go and see.”

“We’re going camping with Miller and Jackson,” Echo says.

“Oh. Can I come?”

Echo looks to Bellamy, pursing her lips. He supposes it’s his responsibility to tell her no. “It’s kind of a couples thing,” he says awkwardly. “And besides, you don’t even like camping. You hate the outdoors.”

“I don’t hate the outdoors. I just hate not showering for two days. And sleeping in a tent. And fishing.”

Bellamy smirks, holding back his laughter. “I’ll go to the exhibition with you another time, okay?” he promises.

“Okay,” Clarke sighs. Bellamy’s stomach twists. He doesn’t like to let her down.

“Or you could drag Octavia and Niylah along.”

“Niylah would probably actually like it. There’s no way in hell I’d get Octavia to go, though,” Clarke snorts.

“You could lie and tell her you’re going to a boxing match or something,” Bellamy grins.

“If I did that there would end up being a boxing match between me and her,” Clarke says.

“You could take her,” Bellamy assures her. “You’re tougher than you look.”

Echo interjects then. “Okay, well, seeing as we appear to be done with the movie, I have to get going,” she says. “I have the night shift tonight.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Bellamy says.

He walks her to her car, parked in his driveway. She kisses him, drawing it out much longer than usual for a goodbye kiss.

“Bellamy,” she says. “You really need to talk to Clarke.”

Bellamy frowns. “About what?”

“Are you serious? She’s always third-wheeling us. I’m getting tired of it.”

“I can’t just tell her to fuck off,” Bellamy huffs. “She’s my best friend.”

“And she needs to understand that you have a girlfriend!” Echo hisses.

“She does,” Bellamy says. “I’m sure she’s third-wheeling Octavia and Niylah all the time too. She’s just bored and lonely because her girlfriend lives out of town.”

Echo purses her lips. “I swear you spend more time with her than you do with me.”

Bellamy pauses at that. Is Echo jealous? “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Echo says. “And I think she might have a crush on you.”

Bellamy’s heart skips a beat. “No, she doesn’t. We’re friends. We’ve been friends a long time.”

“Nothing more?”

“Nothing. I promise,” Bellamy says. It’s not a lie. They’ve never been anything more than friends, no matter how much he wanted it.

“I need something more from you, Bellamy,” Echo says. “Prove to me that this is going somewhere.”

Bellamy gapes at her. God, she’s more jealous than he even realised. “Prove it to you? How?”

“I don’t know. Think about it. I have to go. You should probably send her home.”

She gets into her car, without another word from Bellamy. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? He watches her drive away, and then he goes back inside to Clarke.

He supposes Echo must trust him enough to be alone with Clarke, even if she does believe that Clarke has a crush on him. She’s inventing things, things that must stem from her own insecurities. Not that Bellamy would have any clue what her insecurities are, or where they came from. He still knows almost nothing of her past. And she wants _him_ to prove this is going somewhere?

He sits back on the couch, and Clarke scoots over, cuddling up to him, pressing play on the movie. His arm moves to rest around her shoulders of its own accord, and he breathes her in, feeling his heart squeeze. It’s laughable that Echo believes Clarke has feelings for him. She’s got it so backward.

 

-

 

Bellamy really isn’t sure what Echo wants from him. He stews over her comments until he falls asleep, wondering what kind of sign she needs from him.

Does she want him to ask her to move in with him? It’s way too soon for that. They’ve only been together four months. He hasn’t even told her he loves her, not that she’s said that either. God, he hopes she doesn’t. He’s not there yet. He has to get over Clarke first.

He finally settles on two things, and hopefully one or the other or both will satisfy her.

He goes to see her at lunch the next day, at her house, seeing as she has the day off after working all night.

She opens the door and lets him in, an intrigued expression on her face.

“You asked for a commitment,” Bellamy says. Echo nods. “I want to give that to you, I really do. So I’m hoping you’ll accept this key to my house,” he says, handing her his spare key. “I think it’s too soon to move in together,” he says. “I like to take things slow. As you know, this is only my second real relationship. But I want you to feel like you can come and go as you please.”

The corners of Echo’s mouth turn up into a slight smile. She seems pleased as she takes the key from him. Has he passed the test?

“And I was hoping you’d spend Christmas with me and Octavia and Niylah. If you don’t have any plans with your family or—whatever.” Does she even have any family?

“My family and I don’t get along,” she says. Which is something, at least. “I don’t like to talk about it. I accept this key and your invitation.”

“Great,” Bellamy smiles, relieved. Echo pulls him into a stiff hug, and gives him a kiss.

“I have to get back to school,” he says. “But everything’s good with us, right?”

Echo pauses. “You sent Clarke home last night when I asked you to?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, the lie coming all too easily. He hadn’t realised that was part of the test, that she was serious about him sending Clarke home.

He doesn’t tell her Clarke stayed to watch the movie. He doesn’t tell her Clarke fell asleep on his shoulder and he couldn’t bear to move her so he just stayed like that until he fell asleep too. He doesn’t tell her how they woke up pressed against each other an hour later, and Clarke went to sleep in Octavia’s bed without a second thought.

“Then everything’s good,” Echo smiles.


	16. A Thing For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to go and vote for your fave fics in BFWA!

Bellamy has no strong feelings about Christmas either way. He doesn’t have a lot of extended family, and money was always a little tight growing up, so it was never an extravagant thing, but Aurora always enjoyed buying him and Octavia little gifts, and decorating the house.

He just has a tree this year, which he hasn’t even decorated, despite it being Christmas Eve. But it’s up, and there are four presents under it, which is a good start. One for Octavia, obviously, and one for Echo. One for Niylah since she’s spending Christmas with them, and is almost family by now. And one for Clarke, because, well—it’s Clarke. He doesn’t do gifts with Murphy or Miller, the three of them deciding years ago that they’d all rather save that money to get drunk on New Year’s Eve.

His plans for Christmas Eve include going over to Octavia and Niylah’s and getting drunk. Then tomorrow they’ll come over for lunch with him and Echo. It’s nothing fancy, but he’s looking forward to it.

He’s sitting on the couch, half considering putting decorations on the tree, still a few hours until he’s due at Octavia’s, when Clarke drops around. He’s stopped being surprised by now. He still hasn’t told her she needs to give him and Echo space, but Echo seems to have been placated by his gesture and has barely complained about it since. She also hasn’t brought up Clarke’s non-existent crush. Perhaps she never really believed it and was just looking for a way to make him feel guilty.

Clarke walks into his living room, still all bundled up in her coat, a large shopping bag in her gloved hands.

“Hey,” he greets her, getting up from the couch. “What have you got there?”

“Presents for you and Octavia,” she says. “Since I won’t see you tomorrow.” She starts pulling a thin, rectangular-shaped parcel out of the bag, and Bellamy reaches for it. She snatches it away from him. “You can’t touch it,” she says. “You might guess what it is.”

“Okay,” he smiles, amused. “Just put them under the tree then.” He gestures behind him, to where the tree is sitting in front of the window. Clarke looks at it, aghast.

“Bellamy, it’s not even decorated.”

“I only put it up yesterday,” Bellamy says defensively. “And decorating isn’t really my thing.”

“I’ll help you,” Clarke says, heading for the tree. She kneels in front of it and puts two presents under it, next to the ones Bellamy has placed there. “Ooh, you got me something?” Clarke asks, noticing the present with her name on it.

“Of course I did. You got me something, didn’t you?” Bellamy says. “You want to open it now?”

Clarke shakes her head. “Decorating first. Then present opening.”

She shrugs off her coat and pulls off her gloves, then reaches for the box of decorations Bellamy has sitting by the tree. It’s mostly full of plastic baubles, and some tinsel that has seen better days. There’s also a coil of string lights that strangely hasn’t become too tangled. Clarke arranges the lights first, then allocates Bellamy half the tree to cover with baubles and tinsel, while she does her side.

Clarke gets started, and Bellamy puts some Christmas music on, just to get into the spirit of things. Clarke works methodically, concentrating solely on decorating the tree, occasionally humming along to the Christmas songs. Bellamy, on the other hand, can’t stop looking over at her side, making sure he’s doing it right. He’s sure his side is going to be a complete mess compared to hers.

Of course, it’s not only the tree he’s interested in when he looks over. But if she happens to look up and see him watching her, at least he has an excuse as to why.

When she’s done, Clarke steps back to admire her handy work. Bellamy was right, her side looks so much better.

“Maybe we should just turn it around so we can’t see my side,” Bellamy grins.

“I think it looks good,” Clarke says. She says it so seriously he almost believes her.

“You’re such a liar,” Bellamy says, teasing. “Next year you should probably do the whole thing.” Clarke gives him a funny look. “What?”

Clarke shakes her head, turning back to the tree. “Nothing. It needs something else. We should make some popcorn strings. Do you have any?”

“Sure.”

Clarke heads off towards the kitchen to make the popcorn, leaving Bellamy wondering what he said wrong. Is she annoyed he suggested she should decorate his tree for him? He was only kidding. Surely she knows that. Or maybe she has no intention of being here next year. Maybe she’s planning to move to DC like Lexa wants. Bellamy can’t bear the thought.

When the popcorn is cooked, the two of them settle onto the couch, facing each other, the bowl of popcorn between them as they thread it onto pieces of string.

“So, Christmas with Abby and Marcus tomorrow?” Bellamy asks.

“It’s going to be so boring,” Clarke sighs. “I love the idea of Christmas, but the reality just never lives up to it. I always wanted a big family Christmas, you know?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees. “Well, maybe one day you’ll get that,” he says, popping a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. He doesn’t think she’ll get it with Lexa. He can’t imagine the woman as a loving mother with a big family, the way he can with Clarke.

“Maybe,” Clarke says. She doesn’t seem convinced. Bellamy grabs another handful of popcorn and shovels it into his mouth. “Bellamy, stop eating it!” Clarke huffs. “You’re wasting it. That’s not what it’s for.”

“It’s exactly what it’s for.”

“You can make more if you want to eat it, this is for the tree.”

“Why don’t we just eat this batch and make more for the tree?” Bellamy says, reaching for another handful. Clarke grabs the bowl and snatches it from his reach. “You’re mean,” Bellamy says. He lunges for the bowl, grinning, and Clarke tries to shimmy backwards, clutching the bowl to her chest protectively. She reaches into the bowl and grabs a handful, throwing it at him, as if that will keep him away.

“Now who’s wasting it?”

“It’s still usable,” Clarke says.

Bellamy makes another grab for the popcorn, latching onto the bowl this time. Clarke shrieks and tries to pull it away. Bellamy lurches forward as the bowl slips from her hands, and his, popcorn flying as the bowl lands on the floor. Bellamy barely notices. The action has led him to be pressed up against Clarke, half on top of her. He could very easily lean in and kiss her right now. She’s looking up at him through her delicate lashes, and he could almost convince himself she _wants_ him to kiss her.

Mariah Carey’s _All I Want For Christmas is You_ fills the silence.

Clarke reaches up, her fingers fiddling with his hair. “You have popcorn in your hair,” she says softly. Bellamy licks his lips. If he didn’t have a girlfriend. If _she_ didn’t have a girlfriend.

“Join us tomorrow,” he says, the words slipping out of his mouth before he can even stop to think about it.

“What?”

“Spend Christmas with me. If your mom doesn’t mind.” He sits up, and Clarke does the same. “It’s not going to be huge, but it might be fun. Octavia and Niylah will be there. And Echo. And you’re practically family.”

“Okay,” Clarke agrees. “Mom won’t mind, as long as I spend tonight with her and Marcus.”

“You can bring Lexa if you like,” Bellamy suggests.

Clarke pauses. “I think she has other plans.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Clarke smiles. “Okay, I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

 

-

 

Echo only rolls her eyes when Bellamy informs her Clarke will be joining them for Christmas. He hadn’t exactly been considering his girlfriend when he asked Clarke to join them. He just knew it was Christmas, and Christmas is when you spend time with your family, and the people you love.

It’s the first time Echo and Octavia are spending an extended length of time together too. They’ve met before, obviously, but neither of them has expressed any interest in getting to know each other, and Bellamy has never bothered to try to get them to hang out. He knows if he plans to keep Echo in his life that needs to change.

They eat lunch first, a turkey Bellamy cooked, and a ham Octavia provided. If Bellamy had been worried the day would be awkward, his fears proved to be unfounded. Perhaps it’s the amount of wine they drink, or perhaps it’s just because it’s Christmas and he’s with the people he loves.

Once they’re done eating, they retire to the living room to open presents and drink more wine.

It’s not an organised gift exchange, and gifts are thrown at each other, without a care whether or not they might be breakable. Octavia snorts at the vanity license plates Bellamy got her, reading RDQUEEN, from when she used to be obsessed with Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. He can tell she loves them, even if she rolls her eyes and calls him an idiot.

He was careful with Clarke’s present this year. Careful not to buy anything too meaningful, nothing that shows how much he cares, nothing that anyone would buy for their girlfriend. He learnt his lesson last time. She opens the photo frame and stares at it for a moment. It is a _nice_ photo frame. Very decorative, with elaborate floral designs carved into it. But maybe she’s disappointed.

“Thanks,” she says, looking up. “It’s really nice.”

“You didn’t even put a photo in it,” Octavia scolds him.

“I thought she would want to pick the photo,” Bellamy says defensively.

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Just open your present already so we can be done with this.” She’s impatient now that she’s already opened all hers.

Bellamy reaches for the gift in front of him, with his name on it, from Clarke.

“You don’t have to open it now,” she says quickly.

Bellamy frowns. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“In case you’re sick of opening presents,” Clarke says.

He gives her an amused smile. “I’m not sick of it. I still have to open Echo’s anyway.”

“And give me mine,” Echo interjects. “Saving the best for last, I assume?”

“Of course,” Bellamy grins. Bellamy rips open the neatly wrapped package to reveal a small canvas, with what he immediately recognises to be a painting of him and Clarke. And she’s in a wedding dress. He glances at her, his heart thudding. “Did you paint this?” Of course he already knows she did. He recognises her style, and besides who else would have done it?

She nods shortly. “Um, there’s this photo of us dancing at my wedding to Wells that I really liked,” she says. Is she blushing, or is it just hot in here? Is _he_ blushing? “So I painted it. Ages ago. I thought you might like it.”

“I do,” he says. “It’s really good.” He stares at the painting a little longer. He’s never seen the photo in question, but he remembers the moment all too well. The song that was on, the way she smelled, the way her body felt under his hands. The painting doesn’t show Clarke’s face, but it shows his, and he can see it in his eyes, even in a painting. How in love with her he was, even then.

“You’re very talented,” Echo says, but she doesn’t look impressed in the slightest.  

Bellamy puts down the painting and hands Echo her present, trying to smooth things over. Not that there should be anything to smooth over. It’s just a painting. Which, he realises, is a lot more personal than a photo frame. No wonder she was disappointed. He feels like an idiot.

Echo unwraps the small box and pulls out a silver chain with an arrow on it. Since jewellery is apparently what you’re supposed to get your girlfriend, and Echo is really into archery. She turns and flips her hair out of the way so Bellamy can fasten the chain around her neck.

“I love it,” she beams. “Thanks, Bellamy. And I got you…” She hands him a package. He can already tell from the feel of it that it’s a book. He likes reading, so he’s happy with that. Except when he opens it, it’s just Lance Armstrong’s autobiography. He tries not to look confused, but he has no idea why Echo would think he would like this. He’s not really into cycling, and even if he was, why would he want to read about the guy who cheated his whole career?

“Thanks,” he says, trying to sound grateful.

“I just thought, you said you wanted to go bike riding more often, and then I saw this on sale, so it seemed like a sign.”

“You know he was like… on drugs, right?” Octavia pipes up. “Like that’s why he was winning.”

“Shut up, O,” Bellamy says. “I love it,” Bellamy says to Echo. “Thanks.” He leans in to give Echo a peck on the lips.

With the presents out of the way, they serve dessert, and drink even more wine, and any awkwardness is soon forgotten. When they’ve eaten dessert, Bellamy starts to clean up, and Clarke tries to help him, but he waves her away.

“Go and relax,” he says. “You too,” he says to Echo. “O will help me clean up.”

“I will?”

“You will.”

Octavia sighs dramatically, following him from the dining table to the kitchen, while Echo, Clarke, and Niylah head into the living room. They’re all drunk enough that he doesn’t feel the need to be worried about them being unable to make conversation.

Bellamy and Octavia stack the dishwasher in silence, until Bellamy works up the courage to ask the question he’s been dying to ask her, but is afraid of the answer.

He clears his throat. “So, what do you think of Echo?”

Octavia drops the last fork into the dishwasher and closes the door. “You really want the answer to that question?” she asks, leaning against the counter.

Bellamy nods. “I want your honest opinion,” he says.

“I don’t love her,” Octavia shrugs. “And I don’t think you do either.”

Bellamy can’t refute that. “I like her though. I like her a lot. I think she’s good for me.”

Octavia twists her mouth up, considering. “Maybe she is. At least you’ve stopped pining over Clarke.”

“Shut up,” Bellamy snorts.

“Pining over me?” Clarke’s shaky voice comes from the kitchen doorway. Bellamy’s stomach drops as he looks up over Octavia’s shoulder to see Clarke’s confused expression. Octavia’s head whips around to look at Clarke, and then back to Bellamy, her eyes wide.

Oh god. Oh fuck. How the fuck does he get out of this one?

“I should—um—” Octavia stammers, pointing to the door. She mouths a _sorry_ at Bellamy and then creeps out of the kitchen, as Clarke walks further into it, her eyes wide, her lips parted.

“Uh—” Bellamy starts. He has no idea where to go from there. His face feels like it’s on fire.

“You were pining over me?” Clarke asks hoarsely.

“No,” Bellamy says quickly. Clarke shakes her head, trying to understand. God, he can’t even really pretend Octavia was just joking around, because what kind of joke would that even be? “Well, yes,” he amends. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth, and his heart won’t slow down. “Maybe not pining. But I, uh—I maybe had a thing for you. For a little while. Not anymore,” he babbles, hoping his excuses make any sense at all.

“A thing,” Clarke repeats faintly. “When was this?”  

Bellamy swallows. “Before you went to Paris.” _And during, and after_ , _and always_.

Clarke nods, but her expression is vacant, as if she still can’t comprehend what he’s saying. “Before I went to Paris.” Her eyes widen. “The day we went to the movies. You were going to say something.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says quietly. “But you don’t have to worry. I’m totally and completely over you,” he lies. Words he never thought he’d be saying to Clarke Griffin. She stares at him. She almost looks like she’s about to cry. “I just—I hope it doesn’t weird you out. That it doesn’t make things awkward between us.”

Clarke gives him a half smile. “No, of course not.” Bellamy smiles back, relieved. “Anyway,” Clarke says, and that’s that. “I just came in here to tell you I should get going. Thanks for inviting me, it was fun.”

“Okay,” Bellamy nods. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Bell.”  She reaches out to wrap her arms around his neck, and she buries her face into his neck for a moment, while his arms circle around her waist tightly, his heart still thumping erratically, though the danger has passed. And then she pulls away quickly, giving him a last wave before she goes.

Bellamy presses start on the dishwasher, and a moment later Octavia walks back into the kitchen.

“What happened? Clarke left in a hurry.”

Bellamy shrugs. “I just told I used to have feelings for her, but now I don’t. I think she bought it. She said she had to go.”

“She didn’t have to go before she came in here and overheard what I said. Niylah said she came in here to get more wine.”

Bellamy swallows. Maybe she did feel awkward after all. He can only hope it’s temporary. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It was probably just weird for her to find out.”

“Bell, I think—” Octavia says, then stops herself, looking uncertain.

“What?”

Octavia shakes her head. “Nothing. Your girlfriend wants you.”


	17. They're Playing Our Song

There’s a bar that Murphy has always liked, that Miller and Bellamy usually try to avoid unless Murphy forces them to go there. It’s kind of dingy, and there’s always some kind of strange emo band playing music Bellamy doesn’t get. Bellamy thinks Murphy just likes it because the drinks are cheap, although the place does have kind of a Murphy vibe about it.

“Did you have to have your New Year’s Eve party here?” Bellamy says, walking into the near empty bar with Echo, in from the freezing cold. It’s supposed to snow later. Murphy looks over from beside the stage, where he’s talking to the band with Emori.

“I don’t get why you don’t like this place. It’s classic.”

“Are you wearing eye liner?”

“Emori did it for me. It looks good right?”

Bellamy grins. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Suits you.” He glances around, realising that they’re the only ones here, other than the band, the old guy behind the bar, and a small black woman with bright blonde hair, reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in the corner.

“Did you book the whole place out?” Bellamy asks.

“Yeah,” Murphy says. “It’s a big party.”

“Who’s that?” Echo asks, inclining her head towards the woman reading.

“Her name is Gaia,” Murphy says. “Friend of Emori’s.”

Bellamy nods, and as Murphy goes back to his conversation with Emori and the band, Bellamy and Echo head towards the bar. Other guests of Murphy and Emori’s filter in, the band starts up, and it doesn’t take long for the place to feel full. Despite his dislike of the choice of venue, Bellamy finds himself having fun.  

He’s a few drinks in when Clarke arrives, and he glances at Echo, wondering if she’ll notice if he ditches her for a minute and goes straight to Clarke. It turns out he doesn’t need to worry, as Clarke smiles at him and makes a beeline for their table as soon as she spots him.

It seems like there was no awkwardness after his confession last week. Everything has continued on as if it never happened. Bellamy is relieved about that, but he’s also a little disappointed that it didn’t affect her more. Not that he expected it to.

“Hey,” Clarke says, as she reaches him. She gives a nod to Echo, and starts unbuttoning her coat.

“Hey,” Bellamy returns. Clarke shrugs off her coat and hangs it over the back of the chair before sitting down. Bellamy wants to tell her how sexy she looks in her green dress and patterned stockings. But he keeps his mouth shut. “I was just about to go and get another drink, do you want something?”

“Sure,” Clarke says. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Echo?”

Echo glances at her half full glass of wine. “I’m good.”

Bellamy heads towards the bar, and it’s not until he’s standing there, waiting to be served, that he glances back and realises he’s left them alone together. He doesn’t have any good reason to feel uneasy about it, but he keeps his eyes on them all the same. From the looks of it, they’re not even talking.

He orders two Jack and cokes and when he arrives back at the table with them, Echo is gone.

“She went to talk to Emori,” Clarke says, without Bellamy even having to ask the question. “I have the feeling she didn’t want to sit here in awkward silence with me any longer.”

“I was only gone five minutes,” Bellamy huffs. “You guys couldn’t have made polite conversation for that long?” He’s suddenly annoyed about it, even though a minute ago he didn’t even _want_ them talking to each other. But they could at least try, for his sake. Clarke gives a shrug. “You don’t like her, do you?” Bellamy guesses.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. What’s wrong with her?”

Clarke opens her mouth, then shuts it again. “Nothing,” she finally mutters, before picking up her drink and taking a sip.

“Clarke.”

“She’s not good enough for you.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t realise you thought so highly of me.”

“You know I do.”

“You just have to get to know her.” Clarke screws up her mouth and takes another sip of her drink. Bellamy decides it’s time to drop the subject. “No Lexa tonight?” he asks. Seriously, the woman couldn’t even make the trip for New Year’s Eve?

Clarke shakes her head. She runs her finger up and down the outside of her glass, making lines in the condensation. “We had a fight last time I went to see her. Just before Christmas. I think—I think we’re probably going to break up.”

Bellamy swallows. He tries to tell himself he’s not happy to hear that. “How come?”

“She keeps hassling me to move to DC. And maybe I would, but I don’t know. She won’t promise me anything. She doesn’t know if she wants to get married, or have kids. But it’s not _definite,_ you know. I wish she’d just decide so I could figure out if I should just walk away now, or risk waiting for her to make up her mind, only to have her decide she doesn’t want a family.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says gently. “If she’s not willing to make the commitment you need from her, maybe you should end it now. Because it seems to me like _you’re_ not sure either. About her.”

Clarke chews her lip. She looks up from her drink. “But what if I never find someone who does want a family with me?”

Bellamy’s heart breaks at that. God, does she really believe that? That no one is ever going to give her everything she wants, everything she deserves? He grabs her hand.

“There is someone out there for you, Clarke,” he tells her fiercely. “Someone who is going to love you harder than you’ve ever been loved. Someone who’s right for you, who’s going to love you unconditionally, who’ll never hurt you, who you can grow old with. I promise.”

Clarke nods, tears glistening in her eyes. The music stops abruptly, and the sound of someone tapping on a microphone fills the room. Bellamy looks over to the stage where Murphy is standing with Emori, holding the microphone.

“Welcome everyone!” Murphy says. “Thanks for coming to our party. But this isn’t just any party. You all are lucky enough to be at our wedding.”

Bellamy chokes on his drink, spitting half of it out onto the table. Their _wedding_? Bellamy didn’t even know they were _engaged_. But then, since when have Murphy and Emori ever done things the traditional way?

Emori takes the microphone from Murphy. “Gaia is here to perform the ceremony. We’ll make it quick, and then you guys can get back to drinking and partying.”

Bellamy watches as Gaia takes the microphone. Murphy and Emori turn to each other, holding hands, and they’re both grinning uncontrollably. Bellamy glances at Clarke, finding her already looking at him.

“They look really happy, don’t they?” she whispers.

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees. He looks over to Echo, standing by the stage. Bellamy can’t imagine himself ever being that happy to marry Echo. And as Emori and Murphy read their vows, promising to look out for each other, to always make each other laugh, be each other’s family, and always put each other first, Bellamy knows with a sinking certainty that he has to break up with Echo. Doesn’t matter that he can’t have who he really wants. He doesn’t love Echo, and he could never promise her the things Murphy and Emori are promising each other. He already promised those things to Clarke, whether she knows it or not.

Gaia pronounces Murphy and Emori married, and they quickly sign their wedding certificate, grabbing the two closest people to the stage to witness it, Echo, and Emori’s brother, Otan. The band starts up again, and the singer announces Murphy and Emori’s first dance as a married couple, which happens to be _I’m a Believer_ of all things.

Bellamy snorts out a laugh as they dance, and Clarke laughs joyously beside him. The song ends, and Murphy and Emori take a bow before the band starts playing the next song. Within half a second Bellamy recognises the song to be _Slide_ , and his heart skips a beat. He glances at Clarke again.

“Dance with me,” she says. Bellamy shakes his head. It’s an upbeat song, which means he can’t just stand there and sway. “Come on,” Clarke urges, grabbing his arm as they stand up. “They’re playing our song.” And how can he say no to that? She thinks of it as _their song_. Does she listen to it when she’s alone and think of him?

He lets her drag him to the dance floor, and thankfully there are other people dancing, so no one except Clarke will notice his terrible dance moves. But it doesn’t matter that he’s not a great dancer when he’s with Clarke, because honestly? She’s not that great herself. But he spins her around, and holds her closer than he should, and he feels more alive than he ever has with Echo. It only cements his decision to break up with her. Tonight, after the party.

Clarke is beaming as the song finishes, and Bellamy has this tug in his chest, and he wonders if this is finally it. If she ends things with Lexa, and he ends things with Echo, maybe—

He doesn’t let himself finish the thought. He’s not getting his hopes up this time.

He’s about to ask Clarke if she wants another drink when Echo swoops in.

“My turn,” she says, and Bellamy feels like he can’t say no. He just has to get through tonight, and then it will be over. He can’t believe how relieved he feels at the thought. Not because he hates Echo, or he’s sick of her. He still likes her, and cares about her, and enjoys her company. But he won’t have to keep himself in check when he’s around Clarke. Can think about her as much as he wants without feeling guilty. Won’t have to worry about whether or not Echo is suspicious or jealous.

It’s a slower song playing now, kind of sad actually, and Bellamy sways to the music with Echo in his arms, thinking about how it’s their last dance. When the song ends, he looks for Clarke. And he sees her standing by the door. With Lexa, who has evidently just walked in, if the white specks of snow on her black coat are anything to go by. Bellamy clenches his jaw. So Lexa did make it after all. Maybe there’s hope for her and Clarke yet.

There’s that swooping feeling of disappointment, though he told himself not to get his hopes up. It’s not gut-wrenching like last time. He doesn’t want to break down and cry. It’s just a resigned acknowledgement that yet again, his tiny spark of hope has been extinguished. It doesn’t change his own plans.

He heads to the bar with Echo and buys her another drink. It’s the least he can do.

He spends the rest of the night separated from Clarke, keeping his distance because he’s not sure what’s going on with her and Lexa, and whether his presence would help or hinder. Clarke does seem happy to see her girlfriend, but it also seems like she’s avoiding being alone with her, always pulling Lexa along to the next person, or grabbing a friend as they walk past.

Clarke tries to catch his eye a few times, but he pretends not to see. He doesn’t want to talk to Lexa. Doesn’t want to hear about how she came _all_ this way just for Clarke, as if one short flight makes up for all the times Clarke has made the trip. Doesn’t want to stand there and have to pretend he approves of their relationship.

When midnight draws near, Echo refuses to leave Bellamy’s side. He knows she’s expecting a kiss. He wonders if he can get away with a hug. He doesn’t want to start the new year with her when he knows he has no intention of seeing it to the end.

With thirty seconds to midnight, Murphy jumps on stage again, thanking everyone for coming, before he starts the countdown at ten seconds to go. Everyone chants along with him. At five seconds, Bellamy downs the rest of his drink. His eyes slide to Clarke, no matter how he tries to keep himself from looking over at her. All he wants is to be beside her, to have his arms around her, to give her a New Year’s kiss she won’t forget. Instead it will be Lexa giving that to her.

Three seconds. His mind conjures up a fantasy, where he strides across the room, grabs her face and kisses her, right on midnight, long, and deep, and loving. In that second, he doesn’t give a fuck about her girlfriend, or his.

One second. He should look away. He doesn’t need to watch Lexa and Clarke kiss. Her eyes find his, and his heart just about leaps out of his chest. It’s the longest second of his life. The urge to go to her is so strong he almost follows it. He feels like his thoughts are so loud she might hear them. _Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me._ The world around him blurs and slows down so much he swears time stops, and all he can see is her.

Then Murphy is yelling “ _Happy New Year!”_ into the microphone, and the world starts moving normally again. Clarke breaks eye contact to look back to Lexa. Echo tugs on Bellamy’s arm but he ignores her. He’s too busy watching Lexa slowly drop to one knee in front of Clarke. Fuck. There’s no misinterpreting that.

He closes his eyes, defeated. There isn’t even any shock, or surprise. It’s like he was just waiting for this to happen. It doesn’t lessen the pain. There’s a ringing in his ears, a pounding in his head, and the sounds of the people around him seem muffled and distant. He swallows down bile, and forces himself to open his eyes.

“Bellamy? Are you listening to me?” Echo is saying.

“We should go,” Bellamy says.

He finds their coats, hanging over the chairs they were sitting on earlier. He offers another congratulations to Murphy and Emori, and then he leads Echo out into the snow to his car. She’s silent until he pulls out onto the road.

“You didn’t kiss me,” she says. “At midnight.”

“No,” Bellamy agrees.

“Is there a reason?”

Bellamy sighs. He was going to wait until he dropped her home, but it seems like he can’t hold off any longer. He pulls the car off onto the side of the road and turns off the ignition. He turns to Echo, and she’s looking at him with emotionless eyes. Does she know what’s coming?

“I’m in love with someone else,” he whispers hoarsely.

Echo closes her eyes, shaking her head. “I know,” she says. “God, do you think I’m an idiot?”

“You _know_?”

“It’s pretty fucking obvious, Bellamy,” Echo says, rolling her eyes.

“And you’re fine with it?”

Echo shrugs. “Not completely. But she’s with someone else. She’s not interested in you.”

“I thought you said she had a crush on me,” Bellamy snorts.

“I realised I was reading the situation backwards,” Echo says. “There’s no point ruining this over someone you can’t have. She’s never going to want you, Bellamy.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bellamy mutters. He should feel nothing at Echo’s declaration, after all, he’s completely aware Clarke doesn’t want him. But every time he remembers it aches all over again. “I can’t be with you. I don’t love you.”

Echo huffs, turning away. “You only love _her_. You’re going to end up alone because of it.”

Bellamy shrugs. “Probably.”

“Fine. Have a fucking miserable life, Bellamy.”

He drops her at her house, and she hands him his key back. He drives home, feeling nothing. Not as relieved as he thought he’d be. But not sad or regretful either. It was the right decision, but he’s not _happy_.

He checks his phone as he walks inside, and he has a message from Clarke.

**_Lexa proposed_ **

As if he doesn’t already know. As if Clarke doesn’t know he watched Lexa get down on one knee. Bellamy feels a twinge in his heart. But that’s what Clarke wanted, right? Lexa to commit, to promise marriage and a family? And it doesn’t matter what he thinks. That it’s too soon, that Lexa doesn’t love her the right way, that she’s just going to end up getting her heart broken again by rushing in to yet another marriage.

**Congratulations,** he texts back. What else is there to say?


	18. It Might Never Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voting for round 2 of bfwa is open on tumblr! Thank you to everyone who nominated/voted for this fic so far, you guys are amazing and I love you.

Bellamy hasn’t been hungover on New Year’s Day since he was probably twenty-five. He’s over thirty now, and he can’t party like he used to. Even staying out past midnight last night was an effort for him.

He feels sick this morning, though he’s aware it’s not because of the few drinks he had last night. It’s Clarke, of course. She’s engaged. To someone that’s not him. Again. She’s probably waking up with Lexa right now. They’re probably lying in bed together, whispering and giggling about their wedding plans.

Bellamy groans, rolling over onto his stomach. He wishes his brain would give him five fucking seconds of peace without thinking about Clarke.

Then he remembers what happened with Echo. It’s over. The relief he’d been expecting to feel last night washes over him. He hadn’t realised how trapped he felt. He thought a relationship was what he wanted, what he needed. But it wasn’t fair on either of them to keep stringing her along when he had no intention of marrying her. Or falling in love with her.

Bellamy picks up his phone. 9:47am. No new messages. Just proof that Clarke is with Lexa, and that she’s not thinking about him. He wonders if they’ll go back to DC together. Fuck, she’s probably going to move to DC. The realisation hits him hard in the gut.

Instead of lying in bed to dwell on it and mope over it, Bellamy gets up, though he has no plans for the day. He feels empty. He showers, makes breakfast, puts on a load of laundry, going through the motions. Trying to pretend he’s not desperately lonely, and that he’s not afraid he’ll be lonely forever.

He’s not lonely because he broke up with Echo. He was lonely long before that. She made him forget it for a little while, but she never quite filled the void. A void he’s pretty sure can only be filled by Clarke, a woman who doesn’t love him and never will. He’s sure he’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to get over her.

Mindless tasks and chores don’t seem to be helping, so he goes back to bed. Clarke has been telling him for ages that he absolutely has to watch The Good Place, so he settles his laptop on his knee and hits play.

He’s on episode three when he hears Clarke calling for him from the living room. He presses pause, surprised. He hadn’t been expecting to see her today, or even hear from her.

“In here!” Bellamy calls. Clarke appears in the doorway of his bedroom a moment later.

“Are you still in bed?” she smiles fondly.

“I’m _back_ in bed,” he clarifies.

Clarke kicks off her shoes as she makes her way over. She gets onto the bed beside him, then snuggles up to him, looking at the screen. Bellamy’s arm wraps around her of its own accord. He tries not to think too hard about her being in his bed. She’s engaged to someone else. He resists the urge to kiss the top of her head, and ignores the brief fantasy of her pushing his shirt up and putting her lips on his chest.

“You’re finally watching it,” Clarke says, pleased. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. “It’s hilarious. And really clever.”

“Just wait,” Clarke grins.

“Okay,” Bellamy says. “No spoilers.”

“Okay, but you have to watch it fast.”

“How come you’re here anyway?” Bellamy asks. “Shouldn’t you be with your new fiancée?”

“She had to go back to DC.”

“Already?”

“She really just came to propose.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” Bellamy says, the words falling flat. He looks down at her left hand for the first time, where it rests on his chest. The diamond isn’t as big as the rock Wells gave her, but definitely nicer than the piece of plastic from Finn.

“Thanks,” Clarke says. But she doesn’t seem excited. She doesn’t seem unhappy either. But she’s not the bursting bubble of joy she was when she announced her engagement to Finn or Wells. Perhaps the thought of marriage has lost its appeal somewhat after the first couple of times. It makes him wonder why she’s doing this, if it’s not really what she wants anymore.

“I came here to ask you something, actually,” Clarke says, turning so she’s on her stomach, facing him. “I was wondering—and you can totally say no if you want to. But—will you be my best man?”

Bellamy stares at her. “Your best man?”

“Yeah,” Clarke nods.

Bellamy doesn’t know what to say. On the one hand, he’s touched. On the other, how the fuck can he be her best man, and stand beside her while he watches her marry someone else? He can’t imagine a worse torture.

He licks his lips. “What about Octavia?” he asks. “Don’t you want it to be your best friend?”

Clarke gives him a look like he’s the daftest person on the planet. “Bellamy, are you an idiot?” she huffs. “You _are_ my best friend.”

Oh. His heart misses a beat. “I am?”

“Of course you are. And I’m yours, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“So will you?”

“Sure,” Bellamy says. How can he say no? “I’d love to.”

Clarke smiles at him, then turns back around, resting her head on his chest. He knows she’s expecting him to start playing the show again, but he hesitates, still stuck on her lack of enthusiasm about her engagement.

“Are we going to watch or what?” Clarke prompts.

“Clarke—” Bellamy says hesitantly. “I’m not—I’m not saying you shouldn’t get married if it’s what you want. But as your best friend, I have to ask. Are you sure you want this? Just last night you were sure you and Lexa were about to break up.”

“Because I thought she didn’t want to marry me.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Yes,” Clarke says. She turns back to face him. “I know you’re just looking out for me. But this isn’t another Finn.”

“Maybe you should give it a little more time,” Bellamy urges. “Stay engaged but have a long engagement. Like Monty and Harper.”

“We’ve already decided we’re getting married in April.”

“ _This_ April?”

Clarke nods. “Jackson and Miller managed to organise their wedding in just a few months. Lexa and I can do the same.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy half groans. Then he softens. She’s not stupid, or crazy. So there must be a reason behind her actions. “Clarke,” he whispers. “Why are you in such a hurry to get married?”

“I want a family. You know that.”

“I know. I know,” Bellamy says gently. “But you’re only twenty-two. You have plenty of time.”

Clarke’s lower lip trembles, and the guarded, defensive look in her eyes drops, making her look suddenly vulnerable. “But what if I don’t?” she whispers.

Bellamy shakes his head, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

“My dad—” she starts. “He was only forty when he died. I was _twelve_ Bellamy. I didn’t get enough time with him, my mom didn’t get enough time with him. What if—what if that happens to me?” Her eyes are welling with tears, and they start to roll down her cheeks as she finishes. His heart breaks for her. He gets it, he really does. He didn’t get enough time with his mom either. But Clarke can’t let her fears control her life.

“Clarke,” he says, trying to be gentle with her. “Your dad died in a car accident. The chances of that happening to you too, or someone else you love, are so tiny.”

“I know that,” Clarke says, sounding small. “But I just—I’m scared if I don’t take the opportunities while I have them, it might never happen for me,” she admits. Bellamy tightens his arm around her. She’d said something similar last night. He wishes he could convince her that she doesn’t have to settle. That real love is worth waiting for. But what the fuck would he know? He’s only been in love once.

“And anyone will do?” Bellamy asks.

“No, of course not,” Clarke says. “Lexa isn’t just _anyone_.”

“You love her?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to have a family with her? Grow old with her? She’s the one you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

“Yes,” Clarke says. Bellamy doesn’t miss the slight hesitation before she answers. He doesn’t call her out on it though. The wedding is in four months. That’s enough time for one of them to get cold feet and call it off.

“Okay,” Bellamy says. “Then I’m really happy for you. And I can’t wait to be your best man.”

“Do you want me to make Echo a bridesmaid?”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “You’d do that for me?”

“If you want me to.”

“Well, that won’t be necessary. We broke up last night.”

“You broke up?” Clarke repeats, her eyes widening. “Why didn’t you say something, instead of letting me burden you with all my dumb issues. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bellamy says. “I broke up with her. I think she wanted marriage, eventually. And I didn’t want to marry her. And I wasn’t in love with her.”

“Oh,” Clarke says. She chews her lip, thinking for a moment. “Have you ever been in love?”

Bellamy pauses. Maybe he should lie, but he can’t bring himself to. “Yes.”

“Really? Who with?”

It almost slips out of his mouth right then. _You_. It would be so easy. But it’s so fucking hard at the same time. There are too many good reasons to keep his feelings hidden.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “She didn’t love me back.”

 

-

 

If anyone is surprised about Bellamy and Echo’s sudden break up, they all do a fantastic job of hiding it. Even Emori and Murphy, who were probably the only ones actively rooting for the relationship to work out, aren’t that pressed about it.

“It’s obvious you’re still in love with Clarke,” Murphy shrugs, two days after returning from his honeymoon in Mexico. Bellamy has waited until the happy couple returned to inform them of his break up, but apparently Echo had gotten in first.

The group of six that had become regulars at Murphy’s third favourite bar ( _not_ the bar of his wedding venue), is now a group of five. They’re supposed to be gathering to hear about the honeymoon, but somehow they’ve already moved onto the topic of Bellamy’s love life, which apparently everyone finds more interesting than Murphy and Emori’s Mexican escapades.

“Echo was way too jealous,” Emori rolls her eyes. “That’s why you dumped her, right?”

“I didn’t even know she was jealous,” Bellamy sighs. “I didn’t even know she knew I had feelings for Clarke. Can’t blame her for being jealous when I was literally in love with another woman.”

“I mean, she was convinced Clarke was in love with you too and you were both just waiting for the opportunity to go behind her back.”

Bellamy frowns. That’s news to him. “She said she didn’t think Clarke loved me like that. Her exact words were _she’s never going to want you_.”

Emori snorts. “Of course she’d say that. She was trying to get you to stay with her, wasn’t she?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Yeah,” he says. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter what she thought. What she said was right. Clarke doesn’t want me. And now I have to help her plan her stupid fucking wedding to _Lexa_.”

Miller winces. “You have to help _plan_ it? I thought you were just the best man.”

“Apparently she wants my opinions on things. Lexa is flying in tonight and we’re spending tomorrow doing wedding planning.”

“Hire a wedding planner,” Jackson suggests.

“Just hire a bar and a celebrant and fuck the rest,” says Murphy.

“It’s not _my_ wedding,” Bellamy reminds them. “Besides, it’s not the wedding planning I dislike the idea of. It’s the person Clarke is marrying. Wedding planning can’t be _that_ bad.”

 

-

 

Bellamy is wrong about wedding planning. It is that bad. Or at least, it’s that bad when he’s doing it with Clarke and Lexa. He thinks it should be easy—after all, isn’t it the marriage, and the person you’re marrying that should be important? Not the location, or the flowers, or how much extended family to invite. But Clarke and Lexa can’t seem to agree on _anything._ Bellamy has given up trying to offer any input, and is now sitting across from them at Clarke’s kitchen table, watching the two of them argue.

“If we have the wedding at night, we won’t have any natural lighting for our photos,” Clarke huffs.

“We don’t need photos,” Lexa says. “It’s just a pointless expense.”

“You don’t want photos of our wedding day?” Clarke says, clearly hurt. “We only get one, you know.”

“Haven’t you had two already?” Lexa snorts. Bellamy stiffens at that, sitting upright, ready to come to Clarke’s defence. It’s one thing for them to argue over wedding details, but now Lexa is just being cruel.

Clarke’s eyes flick to Bellamy and she gives him a shake of her head, as if she can sense what he’s thinking.

“You’re right,” Clarke says to Lexa. And, well, Lexa _is_ right. But she doesn’t have to be such a bitch about it. “We’ll do the wedding at night. We don’t need photos to prove we love each other.”

“Exactly,” Lexa sniffs. Bellamy rolls his eyes. At least they’ve managed to come to one decision.

“Okay,” Clarke says, taking a deep breath. “Venue?”

“Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?” Lexa says. “Goodstone Inn.”

Clarke makes a face. “Why is that obvious? I’ve never even heard of it.”

“Isn’t that where your parents got married? I just assumed you’d want to get married there too. And it’s in DC.”

“My parents got married here,” Clarke says. “Not in DC.”

Lexa stares at Clarke for a moment, and for the first time Bellamy sees a flash of doubt cross her face. “Maybe that was—”

“Costia,” Clarke finishes for her, tensing.

“Right,” Lexa says. “Well, where do you want the wedding then?” Obviously her guilt at confusing Clarke for her ex makes her more open to Clarke’s suggestions.

“I want to have it here,” Clarke says firmly. 

“Fine,” Lexa agrees, though Bellamy is sure it hurts her to do so.

Not for the first time, Bellamy wonders why they’re getting married. Just spending the last few hours with them, he can see every issue they have, clear as day. Lexa’s need for control. Her obvious distaste for weddings and her constant dismissals of Clarke’s opinions. Clarke’s previous marriages are obviously a sore spot, as is Lexa’s ex, Costia.

He could point that out, of course. But he’s sure neither of them would hear him. He’s not even sure why he’s here, when his opinion isn’t needed or wanted. But he promised Clarke, so he stays.

“Maybe we should work on a guest list,” Clarke suggests. “You write down all the people you want to invite, and I’ll write down all the people I want to invite. And then we’ll see if we need to cull any.”

Lexa nods, and Clarke hands her a pen and paper, and starts writing. Lexa doesn’t write anything. Bellamy pretends to be looking at his phone, when really his eyes are on Lexa, as she stares at her sheet of paper, then glances at Clarke.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa says. And to Bellamy’s surprise, it sounds genuine. “I don’t mean to talk about her so much.”

“I know,” Clarke says, putting her pen down. “It’s really okay. I know you love me.”

Lexa nods. Clarke holds out her hand, and Lexa takes it. Bellamy swallows, feeling awkward. He shouldn’t be here, witnessing this intimate moment between them. He doesn’t _want_ to be here. He liked it better when they were fighting.

Their hands remain joined, even as they go back to writing their lists. Bellamy’s chest hurts at the sight of it, and he quickly makes his excuses so he can leave. Wedding planning fucking sucks.

 

-

 

Clarke doesn’t tell him what happened after he left, but after that first day of wedding planning, Lexa goes back to DC and mostly leaves Clarke to it. Clarke runs all her ideas past Bellamy, and he gives his opinion when needed, and reassures her she’s not being a bridezilla.

Even though helping her plan her wedding to someone else is torture, even if he spends half his time imagining it’s him she’s marrying, not Lexa, the wedding itself isn’t even the worst thing. Maybe because he’s almost come to terms with the fact that he’ll never get to be with her. That she’s always going to belong to someone else. But when she tells him she’ll be moving to DC after the wedding, and asks him to help her pack up her things, _that’s_ what almost breaks him. Once the wedding is over, she’s leaving. He won’t get to see her every day. Who knows _when_ he’ll get to see her?

He agrees to help her anyway, of course, as does Octavia. But the mood is sombre as they fill cardboard boxes with Clarke’s things. God, he doesn’t want her to go. Can he tell her that? Is he allowed to tell her that?

“It’s going to be weird here without you,” he settles on, taping up a box, then writing _books_ on it in permanent marker. He can feel Octavia’s eyes on him, judging him, but he ignores her.

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees. “Trust me, it’s not easy. But Lexa gave me what I wanted, and now I have to give her what she wants.”

Bellamy nods, swallowing. “I’m really going to miss you.”

Clarke gives him a weak smile. “I’m not leaving yet. It’s still a couple of weeks until the wedding.”

“You need help bringing this stuff to DC?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I’ve got professional movers booked for a couple of days after the wedding.”

“What about your honeymoon?”

Clarke shrugs. “We cancelled it. Lexa decided she couldn’t afford to take time off work. We’ll just take a vacation later in the year.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Octavia mutters, unable to keep her mouth shut any longer. Bellamy is pretty sure Octavia hates Lexa more than she ever hated Echo even. Clarke doesn’t even attempt to defend Lexa. She just shrugs.

“You guys can go if you want,” Clarke says. “We’re pretty much done.”

“Finally,” Octavia says. “Bell, will you give me a lift home? Niylah dropped me off and she’ll be at her yoga class now.”

“Yeah, fine,” Bellamy agrees.

He leads Octavia to his car, and he can tell she’s bursting to say something, but she manages to keep her mouth shut until they’re in the car.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

“You’re going to anyway.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Bellamy doesn’t even look at her as he pulls the car out onto the road. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re still in love with Clarke, aren’t you?”

“So?”

“So why the fuck aren’t you doing something about it? Are you really just going to let her marry that crazy bitch and move to DC?”

“What else am I supposed to do, O?” Bellamy snaps.

“ _Stop_ her. She clearly doesn’t really want to marry Lexa. One word from you and she’d call it off, I know she would.”

“You’re talking shit. If she didn’t want to marry Lexa, she wouldn’t. Besides, remember what happened last time I tried to tell her not to marry someone? I’m not losing her again.”

“If she marries Lexa, you’ll already be losing her.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightens. “I don’t know what you think I could say that would convince her not to marry Lexa.”

“Tell her you love her.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “That wouldn’t stop her. It would just make me look like a fool.”

“How do you know? You thought she loved you once. What if you were right?”

“Would you give it a rest? I’m tired of having false hope.”

“I could ask her. Casually. I wouldn’t need to let her know how you feel at all.”

“O.”

“Fine,” Octavia concedes. “But I want the record to show I thought you should tell her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end, and I still haven't written the epilogue yet. I kind of want to know what you guys would most like to see in the epilogue - a proposal, a wedding, or them already being married? Or something else I haven't thought of? hahaha


	19. Take Me Home

For somebody about to watch the love of his life marry somebody else for the third time, Bellamy thinks he’s holding up pretty well. He hasn’t had a drink, though he’s craving one to dull the pain. He smiles whenever Clarke looks at him, as if he couldn’t be happier for her, and he thinks she believes it.

But truthfully, he’s the furthest from happy. It’s not that he thought he was over Clarke, exactly, because he’s certain now he’s never going to be. But he thought he could make his peace with her marrying someone else. And maybe he could, if he thought she was really marrying Lexa for the right reasons. If he thought her new wife would be able to make her happy. But he’s positive Lexa can’t make Clarke happy, and Clarke is going to end up broken-hearted again.

Honestly, he’s surprised they even made it to this day. He thought the wedding planning, or the distance, would break them by now, but either Clarke is more stubborn than he even knew, or she’s so wrapped up in getting her happy ending as soon as possible, she can’t see that this isn’t it.

Or maybe he’s just bitter because her happy ending isn’t him.

He and Octavia wait in a room at Eden Manor, the place Clarke had ended up deciding on for the wedding venue. It’s an historic house, though the outside of it is the only original thing remaining about it. It’s used mainly for weddings and high tea these days, as well as the occasional tour group. The actual wedding is taking place outside in the expansive gardens, which have been decorated with fairy lights for the occasion.

Bellamy and Octavia are both dressed in black suits. If Bellamy were able to feel anything but nauseous, he’d be annoyed that Octavia pulls off the look better than he does. Clarke is in the room next door with her mom, putting her dress on, while Lexa is down the hall somewhere with her bridesmaids, Anya and Indra.

Octavia slouches in an armchair, doing who knows what on her phone, looking bored as hell. Bellamy wishes he could feel bored. He doesn’t think he’s stopped pacing since they got here, and his stomach is in knots which only get tighter as the minutes tick by and the ceremony gets closer.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Bellamy mutters.

“Just keep it together,” Octavia hisses.

Bellamy swallows. “I can’t do this again,” he whispers.

“You have to,” Octavia tells him. As if he doesn’t already know it.

He groans. “You were right, I should’ve said something, I should’ve—”

“Bellamy,” Octavia says firmly. “Stop. Stop torturing yourself. You missed your chance to tell her, okay? Now you have to suck it up and put on your best fake smile while you watch her marry Lexa.”

Bellamy’s jaw ticks. “And what happens when it all goes down in flames, and Clarke is heartbroken because she got married too quickly again?”

“That’s her own problem,” Octavia shrugs. “If she didn’t learn her lesson the first two times, she deserves it.”

“You’re awful.”

“But I’m right.”

The door swings open, and Bellamy turns to see Abby standing there. She looks tired. As far as he knows, Abby hasn’t done anything to try and prevent the wedding, even paid for some of it, but she can’t be happy her daughter is getting married for a third time, at the ripe old age of twenty-three.

“She’s ready,” Abby says.

Abby leads them to the room next door, where Clarke is waiting. Bellamy enters the room last, and as Clarke comes into view, he feels his heart lodge in his throat. God, she’s beautiful.

Her hair is all done up in an elaborate style, with little white flowers woven into it. She looks like a princess in her off-white gown. The bodice is lace, morphing into a full tulle skirt. It’s more modest than what she wore when she married Wells, but she looks as lovely as ever. And Bellamy still wants to tear it off her.

It’s probably a good thing he’s not the one marrying her after all. He’s not sure he could form enough coherent words to say his vows after seeing her walk down the aisle towards him looking like that.

“What do you think?” Clarke asks, glancing down at the dress. She’s not smiling. She looks nervous as hell.

“Beautiful, honey,” says Abby.

“Very pretty,” Octavia agrees. Clarke looks to Bellamy.

“Yeah,” is all he can manage. It’s better than telling her it would look better on his floor, which is about where his brain is right now. Clarke pouts at him, but all he can do is stare at her. He itches to put his hands on her, to put his lips on her. To throw her over his shoulder and carry her home to his bed and make love to her all night. He wants to tell her not to marry Lexa, he wants to scream it.

_Don’t marry her. Marry me instead._ His thoughts are so loud he thinks she should be able to hear them. But she doesn’t, and she turns back to her mom.

“You can go and join Marcus with the rest of the guests now if you like,” she says.

“Okay,” Abby nods. “Good luck.” She gives her daughter a hug and a kiss on the cheek before she leaves the room.

Clarke looks back to Bellamy, twisting her fingers together anxiously.

“You okay?” Bellamy frowns, concerned. This is so not the same Clarke who was so excited to get married the first two times. Bellamy glances at Octavia, who seems to be having the same realisation.

“Yeah,” Clarke says. “Just—nervous.”

“Do you want some water?” Octavia asks. “I can run to the kitchen and grab some.” Bellamy gives his sister a look. Since when does Octavia go out of her way to do things for other people?

Clarke nods. “Please.”

Octavia heads for the door. She gives Bellamy a look. “Maybe it’s not too late,” she says. And then she leaves the room.

“What’s she talking about?” Clarke asks, confused. “Not too late for what?”

“To, uh—change my tie.”

The fact that Clarke accepts the lie so easily is just more of a sign she’s not okay. She just nods, then drops her head, her mind clearly elsewhere.

“Clarke,” Bellamy whispers. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She looks up at him, but doesn’t offer a response to the question. Instead she says, “Do you think it’s possible to be in love with two people at once?”

The question takes him aback at first, not sure where it’s coming from. Then he remembers Lexa’s obsession with her ex, Costia. Is Clarke worried her wife-to-be is too in love with someone else to truly love her?

Bellamy hesitates. No, he doesn’t think it’s possible. Not in his experience. “I don’t know, Clarke,” he starts. “I’ve only ever been in love with one person.”

“Is that why you couldn’t love Gina or Echo?”

“I think so.”

“So you don’t think it’s possible?”

“Not for me.”

Clarke looks down at her engagement ring. “Are you still in love with her? That one person?”

“Yes.” Octavia’s words ring in his head. _Tell her you love her_. But he doesn’t. This isn’t about him.

Clarke doesn’t make a sound, but a tear leaks from her eye. She quickly brushes it away. “I’m fine,” she says, before Bellamy can ask. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, not believing her for a second. “Did something happen with Lexa and Costia? Recently?”

Clarke stares at him. She swallows. “Costia called Lexa last night, actually,” Clarke shrugs. “Told her it’s impossible to be in love with two people at once. I’m starting to think she’s right.”

“Clarke, if—” Bellamy starts, ready to tell her to call off the wedding. But Clarke cuts him off.

“Could you go and help Octavia?” she says. “I think I want a minute alone.”

“Oh,” Bellamy says. “Sure.” He steps out of the room, his mind whirring. He’s sure he shouldn’t be leaving Clarke alone, sure she needs comfort, not solitude. But she asked him for space, so he heads down the hallway and downstairs towards the kitchen. Octavia meets him at the bottom of the stairs, a glass of water in her hand. The two of them start back up the stairs.

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell her.”

“No.”

“Why not? I thought you wanted to.”

“She’s freaking out enough as it is. I think she’s worried Lexa is still in love with her ex.”

“And she’s only realising this now?” Octavia scoffs.

“I think she’s terrified of ending up alone,” Bellamy says. “And she’ll see whatever she wants to see if it means she won’t have to.”

“Why do you even want her? That girl has way too many issues.”

“You’re such a shitty friend.”

“I’m just real.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. There’s no point arguing with her any further.

As the two of them reach Clarke’s room, Bellamy can hear heated voices coming through the slightly ajar door. Bellamy glances at Octavia. As they draw closer, more words become decipherable, and it becomes obvious that Lexa is in the room with Clarke.

“Let’s be honest, Clarke,” Lexa says, as Bellamy pushes the door open. “I was always a replacement for somebody else too.”

Clarke’s eyes widen when she sees Bellamy and Octavia standing in the doorway. Lexa whips her head around.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy asks.

“The wedding’s off,” Lexa says, void of emotion. Bellamy doesn’t look at her. He’s watching Clarke. She looks sad, but she’s not crying. She must have seen it coming.

“Are you okay?” he asks her. Clarke gives a short nod.

Lexa snorts. “She’ll be fine. And you must be happy.” Bellamy gapes at her, but she doesn’t give him a chance to respond. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my bridesmaids and I are going to get out of this shithole of a town as quickly as possible.” She shoves past Bellamy and Octavia into the hallway, and presumably walks back to her own room to get Anya and Indra. Bellamy has no care for her. She stops existing as soon as she leaves the room.

He and Octavia step inside, and Octavia closes the door.

“I need to get out of here,” Clarke whispers. “I don’t—I can’t bear to tell anyone.”

“I’ll do it,” Octavia says quickly. “Honestly, nothing would make me happier. Do you want me to give a reason?”

Clarke shrugs. “Just don’t make me sound as pathetic as I am.”

“I can help,” Bellamy says.

“No, you take her home,” Octavia says. Bellamy nods, and then Octavia hurries out of the room.

Bellamy turns back to Clarke. “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let’s get you out of here.” Clarke grabs her clutch from the vanity table then reaches for him, letting his whole hand envelope hers. He squeezes once, tightly, and she gives him a shaky smile. She’s okay, for now.

They squint into the fast setting sun as they run outside to Bellamy’s car, and thankfully there’s no one on this side of the manor to see them escaping. Bellamy keeps his hand wrapped around Clarke’s until they reach his car, where he reluctantly has to let go so they can get in. He starts the car.

“I don’t want to go home,” Clarke says. “People will look for me there.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“The Sapphire.”

“The hotel?”

“Lexa and I booked the honeymoon suite. It’s the last place anyone will think to find me. And the minifridge is stocked with champagne.”

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees. He puts the car in drive.

It’s dark by the time they reach the hotel. The valet takes Bellamy’s keys, and Clarke leads the way inside. He’s never been inside this hotel before, and he has to force himself not to look like a gaping tourist at the extravagance of even the lobby. Even the hotel they stayed at in Vegas wasn’t this fancy.

Bellamy follows Clarke to the front desk, where a smiling woman greets them, and Clarke gives her name. The clerk checks her computer.

“The honeymoon suite,” she says. “Lovely. And congratulations.” Bellamy flushes, but Clarke shows no sign that she’s even heard her. The woman hands Bellamy their key cards and gives them directions to their room.

Clarke is silent in the elevator on the way up. She’s grown more and more subdued since they left Eden Manor, and Bellamy wonders if it’s finally hitting her that her relationship with Lexa is over. That Lexa chose Costia over her.

They reach the room and let themselves inside. Bellamy switches the light on, and Clarke heads straight for the minifridge, kicking off her heels and dropping her clutch on the floor as she goes. Bellamy looks around the huge room. The king size bed is covered in rose petals. Gauzy curtains only partly cover the glass doors that lead out to the balcony. There’s a spa in one corner, surrounded by unlit candles. Everything in the room is white or gold, other than the splash of red the rose petals add. The romance of it all doesn’t escape Bellamy’s notice.

Clarke pours two generous glasses of champagne, already chugging hers down as she hands one to Bellamy. He takes it from her, and she fills her glass again.

“You want to talk about it?” Bellamy asks.

Clarke shakes her head. She drinks her second glass slower. “What I want is to get out of this stupid dress,” she huffs. “It’s digging into my ribs. Help me.”

She puts her glass down on the counter, and spins around so Bellamy can undo the line of pearl buttons down her back. He puts his drink down, then reaches for the first button with trembling hands. These are not the circumstances under which he imagined undressing her.

It takes him longer than it probably should to get all the buttons undone. His thumbs are too big, and his hands shake too much, and he can’t stop thinking about putting them on her skin, and his lips on her neck. He needs to get a grip on his thoughts. Clarke is heartbroken, and he’s here as a supportive best friend.

“There,” he says, stepping back after getting the last button undone. Before he can turn away, Clarke slips the straps off her shoulders and lets the whole gown fall to the floor, leaving her in her pretty white underwear.

Bellamy stares. How can he not? His eyes trail over the smooth skin of her back, linger on her ass, where her cheeks peek out of her silk panties. Clarke doesn’t seem to notice or care about Bellamy’s near heart attack at seeing her in her underwear. She turns towards the bed, and there, on her rib, is a tiny tattoo of a paper plane. Bellamy’s heart stutters. He had forgotten she even _had_ a tattoo. Had he seen it a year ago, he would have taken it as a sign. Now it’s just a reminder that every little moment between them that meant something to him, meant something entirely different to her.

Clarke grabs the white silk robe hanging on the end of the bed and wraps it around herself. Bellamy looks away, flushing, trying to pretend he hasn’t been staring.

“Will you help me take my hair out too?” Clarke asks. Bellamy nods. Clarke seats herself on the edge of the bed, and Bellamy joins her. She turns her back to him again, and Bellamy starts delicately pulling the pins and flowers from her hair, letting her curls fall loose.

It feels so intimate, sitting here with her in the honeymoon suite as he takes the pins out of her hair. He can almost imagine it’s their own wedding night. That she’s sitting there as his wife, that any moment they’ll grow impatient with need, and forget about the hairpins so they can make love to each other on top of the rose petals. Her robe and underwear gone, his cock deep inside her.

He hears her sniffle and it jerks him from his obscene fantasy. He swallows guiltily. She’s crying, devastated, and here he is, dick hard from thinking about fucking her. Some friend he is.

“Hey,” he whispers, pulling the last pin from her hair. He places the collection of pins on the bedside table. “I’m sorry you have to spend your wedding night with me instead of Lexa.” His attempt at a joke.

“It’s not that,” Clarke says. She doesn’t even laugh at his half joke. She turns to him, her cheeks stained with tears. Bellamy resists the urge to brush the tears away with his thumb.

He shakes his head. “Then what?”

“I just—keep on trying to marry the wrong goddamn people.” A half-laugh, half-sob escapes her. He can’t argue with that. She wipes her eyes with her fingers.

“I don’t get it,” Bellamy says, as gently as he can. “If you knew Lexa was still in love with her ex, why did you say yes to marrying her?”

“Bellamy,” Clarke says hesitantly. She chews her lip. “I didn’t call off the wedding because Lexa was still in love with Costia.”

“ _You_ called it off?” he asks, incredulous. Clarke nods. “Why?”

“Because—because _I’m_ in love with someone else.”

Bellamy stares at her dumbly. “You are?” He tries to wrap his head around it. None of it makes any sense. Why wouldn’t she tell him she’s in love with someone, if he’s supposedly her best friend? Why would she even think about marrying Lexa? He tries not to get too frustrated, knowing she’s still upset, but her decisions make less and less sense to him the more he thinks about it.

She swallows. “Yeah.”

“Clarke, if you’re in love with someone else, why aren’t you with _them_? Why let things with Lexa get this far?”

“You don’t understand,” Clarke says, tears spilling from her eyes. “He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t want me. And it’s so hard to know who the right person is, when I already know who I want but can never have. Whoever I end up with is always going to be second best.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, softer now. How did he not know all this? Who could it possibly be? Why wouldn’t she confide in him?

“I keep thinking I’m going to get over him, but I never do,” she says quietly.

Bellamy searches for a way to make her feel better. “How do you know he’s not in love with you?”

“He as good as told me,” Clarke says. “Besides, if it was going to happen, it would have happened by now.”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Bellamy says firmly. “Anyone would have to be an idiot to not be in love with you.”

Clarke looks up at him, with tear-stained cheeks and sorrowful eyes. “But you’re not,” she whispers.

Bellamy stares at her. He shakes his head, confused. Him? What has he got to do with anything? “I don’t—” he starts. His heart thuds catastrophically as Clarke look back at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

“Bellamy…” Clarke says softly, her voice trembling. His breath catches as the threads finally knot together in his mind, and he realises what she’s trying to tell him. She’s talking about _him_.

He’s so stunned he can’t speak, can’t move. Can’t even really believe it. He must be wrong, he must have misunderstood. There’s no way.

“Me?” he chokes out.

Clarke looks away from him as she starts to cry again. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said anything. But I just—I’ve been in love with you since I was fucking fourteen. I got so good at hiding it. And you’d think it would get easier to hide, but it just keeps getting harder because I only love you more as time goes on. I keep trying to do whatever I can to get over you, but it’s no use. I only want you.” She looks up at him again, eyes wet with tears. “So you see,” she says sadly. “Not in love with me.”

Bellamy shakes his head again. All this time he’s been waiting for the right moment, and it turns out any moment would have been right. _She’s in love with him_. Has she pined for him the way he pined for her? Ached at night because she couldn’t be with him? It’s hard to imagine, and yet, how can he not believe it? When she’s poured her heart out so genuinely, without any hope that he feels the same? He swallows thickly.

“Not in love with you?” Bellamy says, his voice cracking. “Clarke, I’m so desperately, hopelessly in love with you that most of the time I can’t even think about anything else.”

Clarke’s bottom lip quivers. Her eyes are wide, like she doesn’t quite believe him. “But—but you said you’ve only ever been in love with one person.”

“Yes.”

“You said you were over me.”

“I lied.”

“You said you weren’t looking for anything. You don’t want to get married.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, desperately, and he finally lets himself smile, even as tears of happiness form in his eyes. This is real. It’s really happening. She loves him. Has loved him for years and years. His heart feels like it might explode. He brushes her curls from her face gently, then cups her cheek. “I only want to marry you.”

Clarke lets out a whimper, and Bellamy finally stops holding back. He closes the gap between them, ever so lightly brushing his lips against hers, feeling the crackle of electricity between them. Her breath hitches and her lips part, and he kisses her like he’s been wanting to kiss her for years. He draws it out, savouring the taste of her. It’s so delicate, so tender, both of them shaking with nerves and years of repressed feelings. God, he loves her. He smiles against her mouth, and he feels her smile back. He pulls away, and presses his lips against her jaw.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing the tears from her cheeks. It feels so good to finally say it out loud. He feels lighter. Joyous. He can’t remember the last time he felt so blissfully, ecstatically happy. Clarke laughs, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. “I love you,” he says again.

“And I love you,” Clarke says. Bellamy’s stomach flips over. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of hearing it. He kisses her again, hungry and open-mouthed this time. Because he wants to, and she wants him to, and he can.

Her arms slide around his neck, and he deepens the kiss, trying to convey everything he’s feeling, because he knows words will never be enough. He can feel it too, in the way she’s kissing him. Like she’s hungered for him the way he’s hungered for her. She pulls herself closer to him, and the way she’s using her tongue now is fucking obscene. His cock strains against his fly, and he’s not smiling anymore.

“Clarke,” he groans, her name muffled by her tongue in his mouth. God. Fuck. It should be illegal to kiss like that.

She slides her hands down his shoulders to his tie and loosens it, then shimmies backwards, further onto the bed, pulling on his tie to drag him with her, still kissing him. He shrugs off his jacket, and she lies back against the pillows. Bellamy follows her down, his mouth never leaving hers.

He could kiss her like this for hours and never get sick of it. Her kiss is mesmerising, intoxicating. Still, he hungers for more. His mind wanders, thinking about all the other places he wants to kiss her. He wants to ravish her. Wants to press his tongue against her clit, push his fingers into her cunt, make her moan for him.

His hands rest on her waist, somehow maintaining his decorum despite his wayward thoughts. Clarke fiddles with his tie, removing it entirely, then fumbling with the top button of his shirt. She’s trembling with nerves, or excitement, or both. He is too. She gets the button undone, and he grins against her mouth at her success.

Clarke breaks the kiss, and Bellamy has to use every ounce of willpower he has to keep from chasing her lips. He misses them already. They’re swollen and red, and his stomach swoops at the knowledge that _he_ made them that way.  

Clarke drops her arms from around his neck and slowly undoes the tie that’s holding her robe together. He’s already seen her in her underwear, but somehow his heart is racing just the same.

He watches her every movement like a hawk as she lets her robe fall open. His eyes rake over her body. Her magnificent tits, covered by the white strapless bra. The little wet patch leaking through her panties. His cock jumps at the sight of it.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You are so fucking sexy. You have no idea the things I’ve thought about doing to you.”

Clarke flushes and bites her lip. “So touch me already,” she breathes.

He’s spent so long trying to keep himself from touching her like he wants to, it almost feels unnatural to do so now. He tells himself he’s allowed to touch her. She _wants_ him to touch her.

His hands slip inside the robe, onto her waist. His thumb traces over the tattoo on her ribs. Clarke shrugs off the robe entirely, but still Bellamy holds himself back. He wants nothing more than to go down on her, get her naked, fuck her slow and hard. He’s waited so long. But maybe they shouldn’t. They still have so much to talk about. Clarke just called off her wedding to someone else. She’s clearly got issues she needs to work out about her fear of being alone.

“Maybe we should wait,” Bellamy makes himself say. Even though she’s looking at him like _that_ , with her _come fuck me_ eyes, and her pouty lips, in her flimsy white underwear.

“I don’t want to wait any longer.” 

With that, what little hesitation he had vanishes. His mouth is drawn to hers again, as if by magnetic force. His fingers press into the skin on her waist firmly, while his lips trace her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.

“Clarke, baby,” he groans. Clarke whimpers. Bellamy looks up. “Can I call you that?” Clarke nods eagerly.  “Baby,” Bellamy repeats, bringing his lips to hers, kissing her leisurely. He pulls away, and she tries to chase his lips, but he pushes her back down. He rubs his fingers up and down her stomach, and presses his lips to the little tattoo on her ribs. He’s obsessed with it.

He slips his hand underneath her to unclip her bra. His heart speeds up at the thought of finally getting to see her tits. He lets her be the one to pull her bra away, but she hesitates, biting her lip, looking up at him shyly.

“Are you nervous?” he asks her. She nods, flushing. “Me too,” Bellamy admits.

“You’re really going to see me naked.”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“I want you to,” Clarke says. She pulls the bra away, and Bellamy’s heart thrums faster as she reveals her nipples to him, all pink and hard and perfect. He groans.

“So perfect,” he says. “Want to put my mouth on you, on your tits.”

“Please,” Clarke begs.

Bellamy’s hands slide up her sides, resting on her ribs, and he brings his mouth to her left breast, kissing the soft skin around her nipple. He slides his hands up a little further so her tits fill his hands, and he can’t resist giving her a little squeeze as he sucks her nipple into his mouth. She gives a small moan, and now he’s wondering if _that’s_ the best sound he’s ever heard.

Part of him is still sure this might be a dream. He has his hands on Clarke’s tits, his mouth on her nipple, and she’s moaning for _him_. He can scarcely believe he’s actually touching her. He takes his time with her, worshipping her tits with his mouth and hands, teasing her until she’s a whimpering mess beneath him, and he hasn’t even touched her cunt yet. He wants to make sure she’s dripping before he takes off her panties.

“Bellamy,” Clarke whines. “Bellamy, please.” The sound of her begging has him grinding his crotch against the bed. Fuck, he’s hard, and aching to be inside her. He desperately wants to go down on her too, but that might have to wait until after. If he doesn’t fuck her soon, he’s afraid he might come in his pants. That’s so not how he wants the first time with his soulmate to go.

“What do you want, baby?” Bellamy asks her. “You want me to stop?” he teases.

Clarke shakes her head. “Fuck me,” she begs. “Please, fuck me. Fuck me and tell me how much you love me, and that you only love me and no one else.”

“I love you,” he promises. His fingers curl into the sides of her panties. “I’ve only ever loved you.”

He tugs on her panties, and Clarke lifts her hips so he can drag them down her thighs. He stares at her bare cunt, shaven except for a tiny patch of dark blonde hair above her wet slit. Her pussy lips are swollen, her clit engorged, and her cunt and thighs glisten with her juices. She’s probably throbbing, just like he is, desperate for him like he is for her.

“I love you,” he tells her again, kissing the inside of her thigh. “God, you’re so wet for me, baby. Look at all this.” Then he kisses her just above her slit, and she whimpers.

“Oh my god,” she says, her voice shaking. Almost like she can’t believe this is happening either. That he’s really got his mouth on her bare cunt. Fuck, she smells like heaven. Probably tastes like it too. Unable to resist, Bellamy slips his tongue into her, and it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“I love the way you taste,” he murmurs. “Better than I imagined. I want to fuck you. Want to make love to you all night, make you come over and over and over.”

“Yes,” Clarke says desperately. “Do you have a condom?”

Bellamy’s heart stops. No, he doesn’t have a condom. He wasn’t exactly expecting to get laid tonight. And of course Clarke doesn’t have one. She was supposed to be marrying a woman.

“No,” Bellamy says, and it physically pains him. Clarke lets out a distressed whine. Bellamy lifts himself back up so he’s face to face with her again. She looks like she might cry. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes her. He kisses her, again and again. “I’m still going to make you feel so good. With my fingers, with my mouth.”

“No,” Clarke says. “I need your cock. Please. I waited too long already.”

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. She has such a dirty mouth, and he fucking loves it. Loves that she’s desperate for his cock, just like how he fantasised she would be. “What do you want me to do?”

“Do you have condoms at home?”

“Yes.”

“Then take me home.”

“Fuck, okay. Let’s go.” He jumps up from the bed, and Clarke sits up, grabbing her robe. She doesn’t bother with her underwear, and just shrugs the silky white thing on over her naked body, tying it tightly around her waist. Bellamy grabs her hand, his pulse racing with excitement. He tugs her into the hallway, and they’re both fucking _grinning_ as they run down the empty hallway.

They reach the elevator, and Bellamy has already gone too long without kissing her, so he pushes her against the wall and devours her lips until they hear the ding of the elevator arriving. They shuffle into the elevator, still kissing, and Bellamy fumbles for the ground floor button.

They have to stop when the elevator doors open on the next floor down and two elderly ladies get in. Only their lips break apart though. Bellamy doesn’t have the willpower right now to be any further than an inch away from her. He keeps his body against Clarke’s, covering her near nudity, and his painfully obvious erection, from prying eyes.

It’s the longest elevator ride of his life. Clarke’s hand finds its way between his legs, rubbing his hard on through his pants discretely. She gets on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his ear. “I can’t wait to have this inside me. I can feel how big you are. I knew you’d be big.”

It’s not loud enough for the ladies to hear, but Bellamy glances over his shoulder at them just to make sure. Clarke’s movements on his cock are driving him crazy.

“Clarke, you need to stop,” he growls quietly. “Or I’m going to fucking come in my pants.”

Clarke stops, pulling her hand away, but she’s smirking as she tucks her head into his shoulder. They reach the lobby, and somehow Bellamy doesn’t spontaneously combust in the meantime. He scoops her up into his arms and Clarke laughs. He carries her across the lobby, and once they’re outside, he heads for the closest taxi, not wanting to waste time waiting for the valet to bring his car around.

He has to put Clarke down to open the door. She gets in and he slides in after her, hurling his address at the taxi driver.

He has his arms around Clarke, and she’s pressed against him in every place possible. His skin hums with electricity, and he can feel Clarke’s anticipation radiating off her. They’re both breathing heavy, sitting stiffly as they both try to maintain their composure in the presence of the taxi driver. Bellamy kisses her temple, trying to soothe her, and himself, but it only makes him feel more heated.

Clarke squirms in his arms. He strokes her thigh softly, almost subconsciously. He’s antsy, can’t stop thinking about what will happen when they reach his house. Can’t stop thinking about fingering her right here in this taxi. As if she can read his mind, Clarke shifts, spreading her legs open. Bellamy swallows, glancing at the driver.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says quietly, her voice trembling with desire. “Touch me,” she begs. “Please. Put your big fingers in me.”

He slides his hand up her thigh and between her legs. God, she’s so fucking wet.

“You want me to finger you in the backseat of this taxi?” Bellamy whispers. “Make you come?”

“Yes.”

His middle finger circles her clit and she lets out a soft gasp. He pushes into her, and she arches against him, shifting so he has a better angle, can push deeper inside her. Her tight cunt pulses around his finger. He pushes another finger inside her, and she moans loudly.

“Shh,” he hushes her, pressing his lips to her neck. He moves his fingers inside her, and she rocks against his hand, whimpering quietly. His other hand moves to her breast, squeezing gently, then rubbing his thumb over her nipple through the thin material of her robe.

“Don’t stop,” she says. “Oh my god. I love you. I’m gonna come.”

There’s no way the driver didn’t hear _that_. Bellamy glances up and meets the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Part of him is turned on at the thought of him watching, at the thought of Clarke being so desperate she doesn’t care that a stranger is looking on as Bellamy fingers her in the backseat. The stronger, more possessive side of him, can’t bear the thought of anyone else seeing her come. He pulls his fingers from her cunt, and Clarke whines in distress.

“Bellamy, please.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Bellamy coos. “But I want you all to myself. Can’t stand the thought of somebody else even looking at you.”

“I’m yours,” Clarke promises. “I’ve always been yours. Even when I was with someone else, I still belonged to you.”

“Me too, Clarke,” Bellamy whispers. Why does he feel like he’s about to cry? He kisses her again, and they don’t stop kissing until they reach his house. Bellamy somehow manages to get wallet out of his pocket and throw what is probably way too much cash at the taxi driver.

He practically drags Clarke out of the taxi. He fumbles with his keys as Clarke presses herself against his side, rubbing his chest. He gets the door unlocked and kicks it open. He pulls Clarke inside, dragging her mouth to his. He’s more desperate now than he’s ever been, and if the way Clarke clings to him is any indication, she feels the same.

He picks her up, hands on her ass, her legs around his waist. It’s a miracle he doesn’t crash into anything as he carries her to his room, not bothering to turn on any lights except the bedroom one. He drops her onto his bed, then lunges for the drawers beside his bed and pulls a condom out. He removes his shoes and socks first, and then his shirt and pants, not sexily at all. He almost fucking trips on his pants in his haste to get them off. Clarke laughs at him, and he grins.

“Shut up,” he says.

“Someone’s eager,” she teases.

“Oh, you want me to go slower, do you?” he says, raising an eyebrow. It hasn’t escaped his notice that she’s been rubbing her thighs together this whole time.

Clarke shakes her head. “Come here,” she whispers huskily. “You’ve been too far away from me for too long.”

Bellamy drops to his knees on the bed in front of her, towering over her where she lies against the pillows. He reaches down and slowly pulls on the tie around her waist, then pushes her robe open, so she’s bare for him again. Clarke flushes under his heated gaze, as he drinks in the sight of her, finally naked in his bed.

He leans down, his hand threading into her hair as he kisses her languidly, pretending like he’s not desperate to be inside her. Clarke fingers trail down his chest, and she toys with the waistband of his boxers before slipping her hand inside. Bellamy moans into her mouth as soon as her fingers brush against his aching cock. Her hand curls around him, so tiny it barely makes it the whole way around.

“Clarke, baby,” he groans, his voice so gravelly it’s barely his own. “I can’t—I need you. I need to be inside you.”

“Please,” Clarke whimpers. “I need you too.” She removes her hand from his boxers, then tugs them down, revealing his painfully hard cock. Bellamy gets back up on his knees, watching Clarke as she eyes his cock. Yeah, he wants her to be impressed.

She sits up, and runs her fingertip along the underside. He shudders.

“Fuck, Clarke,” he growls.

“You’re so big,” she says. “Just like how I imagined.” She bites her lip. “Have you got the condom?”

Bellamy nods, unclenching his fist to show her. She takes it from him and rips it open with her teeth, then throws the packaging to the floor, while Bellamy removes his boxers the rest of the way. Clarke places the condom on the tip of his cock, and then rolls it onto him. Bellamy can’t get enough of the way her hands look and feel on his cock.

Once she has the condom on, she presses her lips to his hip bone, then drags her mouth up his abs and over his chest until she reaches his lips. Then she falls back onto the bed, pulling him with her.

“I love you,” she whispers.

Bellamy grips her thigh, his fingers pressing so tightly there will be bruises there in the morning. Clarke spreads her legs, knees bent, and Bellamy positions his cock at her entrance, her arousal already dripping onto his cock. He pushes into her slowly, and Clarke’s eyes flutter shut. He can hear her trying to control her breathing, small whimpers escaping her mouth at the same time, letting him know he’s stretching her to her limit, as if the tight clench of her cunt didn’t already tell him.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs. Clarke nods. Her fingernails dig into his back. “You feel so good, baby,” Bellamy tells her. “I love you so much. I’m almost there.”

“Feels so good, Bell,” Clarke moans, as she takes his whole length inside her. Her legs wrap around him, locking him in place. “I feel so full.”

“I’m gonna fuck you, baby,” Bellamy tells her. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“Yes,” Clarke agrees breathily. He thrusts into her, and then again, gentle at first, then working up a steady rhythm that Clarke meets enthusiastically. He can feel her tits bouncing as he fucks her, and that, plus her sounds of pleasure, spur him on, and all he can think of is making her come, finally getting to be the one to make her feel good.

It doesn’t take her long to get there, which Bellamy is thankful for. He’s sure he’s about to spill his load any moment, and he’s not about to embarrass himself by coming before her the first time he’s inside her.

“Bellamy. Bellamy,” she gasps, right on the precipice. “Yes. Right there. Oh my god, Bell.” Her head tilts back, and her back arches, her soft tits pressing against his chest. Her mouth falls open, and she’s silent at first, but then a lengthy moan escapes her mouth as she rides out her orgasm. Her cunt pulses around Bellamy’s cock, and he’s unable to control himself any longer. He comes harder than he ever has before, filling the condom with his come, moaning her name.

He collapses, rolling to the bed beside her, panting with exertion. Clarke’s hand finds his, interlocking their fingers. Bellamy brings their hands to his lips and kisses the back of hers. She cuddles up to his side, and Bellamy pulls her close.

He’s pretty sure they’re going to be inseparable from now on. He can’t imagine any reason they’d need to be apart.


	20. Lucky Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Go vote in the semifinals of bfwa!

Bellamy wakes up slowly, with sunlight splashing onto his face, the sound of birds warbling outside of his window, and a warm, naked body pressed up against him. He’s smiling slightly as he opens his eyes, a giddy happiness washing over him as the events of last night come flooding back to him.

He turns his head to look at Clarke, tucked against his side, and his heart spasms. She looks content, even in sleep. She’s really here, in his bed, and she’s _his._ She said so herself. He wants to wake up to her like this every morning for the rest of his life.

He thinks he should probably let her sleep. They didn’t exactly go to sleep early last night. He made her come more times than he could count, until they were both totally wrecked.

But he misses her, and he wants to talk to her, and they didn’t _really_ get a chance to talk properly last night, so he selfishly makes the decision to wake her up. He shifts onto his stomach, propping himself half on top of her, then presses his lips to her forehead. Just once, at first, and then again, and then he kisses her eyelids, and her cheeks, and when he finally gets to her lips, her can feel her smiling against his mouth.

He pulls away, and watches her eyes blink open. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice all husky from sleep.

“Waking you up.”

Clarke squeezes her eyes shut again for a moment, her nose scrunching up. “Do you do this with all your one night stands?”

“You’re lucky I love you because that isn’t funny at all.”

Clarke grins at him. “You love me,” she repeats incredulously.

“Did you forget?”

Clarke shakes her head. “Just hardly seems real.”

Bellamy smiles. “I know.” He leans down to kiss her again, properly this time. He doesn’t have to stop himself any longer. He can do that whenever he wants. He pulls away, just so he can look at her some more, her messy hair, her sleepy smile.

“Bell?” Clarke says, hesitantly.

“Mmm?” Bellamy responds, brushing her hair from her face.

“When did it happen? I mean, how long have you—?”

“Loved you?” he fills in. Clarke nods, a little shyly. “I’m not sure, exactly. It took Gina breaking up with me and you marrying Finn for me to realise it. But I think I—I probably loved you since before you married Wells. I hated watching you marry him. Made me sick to think of you with Finn, and with Lexa.”

“I’m sorry I put you through all that,” Clarke whispers.

“It’s okay,” Bellamy says, and it is okay. All that pain and heartache, all the wasted time hardly seems to matter now. “And what about you, huh?” he smiles. “Have you really loved me since you were fourteen?”

Clarke blushes. “I can’t believe you didn’t know. I was so obvious. I used to try and flirt with you all the time.”

Bellamy laughs, delighted. “You were flirting with me?”

“Shut up,” Clarke says, covering her face with her hands.

“No, it’s cute,” Bellamy says.

“I genuinely believed that one day you were going to wake up and realise you were in love with me too,” Clarke says, pulling her hands away from her face. “It wasn’t until I was sixteen that I realised it was never going to happen. I cried so hard that day.”

Bellamy’s smile drops. “You cried over me?” he swallows.

“Loads of times,” she admits.

“Clarke—” he says, his voice cracking. Guilt pools in his stomach. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I didn’t—”

“I know,” Clarke cuts him off. “It’s okay. How could you know? I never said anything.” Tears glint in the corner of her eyes, and he can feel himself welling up too. “The worst was when you told me you used to have feelings for me,” Clarke says. “It’s one thing to think there was never any chance—but knowing there was a chance, and that I missed it? That nearly killed me.”

 “Clarke,” Bellamy says, heart aching. “I never meant to hurt you, if I could go back—"

“I know,” Clarke smiles. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “We both hurt each other.”

Bellamy swallows. “I was going to tell you, you know. After you got back from Paris. I—I had it in my head that when you got back, we could be together.”

Clarke chews her lip. “I thought that too,” she murmurs. “Until you told me you weren’t looking for anything.”

Bellamy huffs out a laugh at that. God, he’s been such an idiot. “Only because I’d already found what I wanted.”

Clarke groans. “I’m so stupid,” she says.

“I think we’re both pretty stupid.”

“You didn’t go and marry every person who looked twice at you. What kind of idiot gets married almost three times by the time they’re twenty-three?”

“A romantic,” Bellamy smiles. “I love that about you.”

“You love that I’ve been married twice already?” Clarke raises an eyebrow.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Bellamy says. “But I am glad you didn’t get married a third time before you married me. I don’t know if my heart could’ve handled it.”

Clarke grins. “So you want to marry me, huh?”

“Did I not make that clear?”

“Are you proposing?”

Bellamy eyes her, and he grows serious. “Clarke—I promise you I want to marry you. I want a family with you. I want to give you all that. But I want to do this properly, you know? I want to date you for a while first. Is that okay?”

Clarke nods. “I want to show you that this time it means something,” she says. “I can wait.”

Bellamy smirks. “That’s not what you said last night.”

Clarke gives him a playful slap, and he laughs until she kisses him, not sweet and chaste like the way he’d woken her up. Her tongue delves into his mouth, shutting him up entirely. His hand slips under the covers, trailing down her stomach, settling between her legs, and then—

“Bellamy!” Octavia’s voice booms through the house. Bellamy groans. He’d forgotten for a moment that other people existed. “Are you here? Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” her voice is getting louder, and it’s obvious she’s coming towards the bedroom.

“I was kind of hoping we’d have a little more alone time,” Clarke giggles.

“Me too.”

The sound of Octavia’s footsteps reaches the door. “Bellamy?” she says, pushing into the room. She stops dead when she sees Bellamy and Clarke staring back at her, wrapped up in each other. Her mouth drops open.

“Hey, O,” Bellamy says. “You know Clarke, right?”

Octavia recovers from her shock, and she purses her lips, unimpressed. She doesn’t even congratulate him. “Seriously? This is why neither of you are answering your phones? Everyone is worried sick.”

“I left my phone at the hotel,” Clarke says. Bellamy is pretty sure his own phone is dead in the pocket of his pants on the floor.

“Give us a break,” Bellamy says. He can’t keep the smile off his face. “We’re in love.”  

“I’m very happy for you,” Octavia says. She rolls her eyes, but a slight smile makes its way onto her face. Bellamy looks to Clarke, who’s already beaming back at him. “I’ll go tell Abby you’re okay then. Should I tell her to start preparing for another wedding?”

“Get out, O!” Bellamy says. Octavia cackles as she leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. Bellamy turns back to Clarke. “Where were we?”

“I think we were being in love?”

“Stupidly in love.”

“Idiotically.”

 

-

 

**Five Years Later**

Bellamy taps on the doorframe of the art classroom, watching as Clarke gathers up her things. She looks up and smiles at him.

“Ready to go?” he asks her.

“Almost,” she says, she glances around her classroom, biting her lip. She fiddles with the paper plane pendant around her neck subconsciously. “Do you think I left enough work for the substitute teacher? And what if I haven’t been clear enough with the instructions? Also—”

“Clarke,” Bellamy interrupts her before she can start spiralling. “Not to downplay your importance to this class, but they’re going to be okay without you. Dante taught here for years before he retired. You just need to relax.”

Clarke nods. “I know. I know.” She takes a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go.” She slings her bag over her shoulder, and Bellamy holds out his hand for her to take as she walks over to him. She slips her hand into his, and he gives it a squeeze, his thumb rubbing over the two rings interlocked there. They’ve been married a year, and he still feels stupidly happy every time he thinks about it. Knowing the rings on her finger are his this time, just like they always should’ve been.

Her other hand rests on her protruding stomach, a habit she’s developed as it swelled over the last eight months. It’s probably a good thing she’s starting her maternity leave now; it’s getting harder and harder for Bellamy to pretend like he’s not thinking about fucking his pregnant wife every time he looks at her.

They’d decided on a “no kissing at work” rule when Clarke first started working there, but they broke it three days later, and decided on a “no fucking at work” rule instead, which is easier to obey, if only because they’d both be fired if anyone were to catch them.

They head to Bellamy’s car, hand in hand, and Clarke rolls her eyes as Bellamy opens the door for her. She keeps complaining that he’s treating her like she’s dying, not just pregnant, but Bellamy knows she secretly loves it. He can’t resist rubbing his hand over her belly as she gets into the car, and she gives him a heated look as she shuts the door behind her. Bellamy hurries to the driver’s side and starts the car.

“We should just tell everyone we’re cancelling tonight,” Clarke says. “It’s our anniversary, I don’t see why we have to spend it with anyone but each other.”

“You know why, baby,” Bellamy groans. He knows exactly what she’s thinking, and he’d love to just tell everyone else to fuck off so he can fuck his wife all night, like he knows she wants him to. But tonight was Octavia’s idea, a little celebration of Bellamy and Clarke’s marriage, since they hadn’t invited anyone to their _actual_ wedding, and Octavia is still more than a little miffed.

“But we can sneak off early, right?” Clarke says. “I’ll use my pregnancy as an excuse.”

Bellamy laughs. “Maybe.” Clarke grows quiet, and Bellamy can see her stroking her stomach out the corner of his eye. “Everything okay?”

“Maybe I should pop in on Monday, just to make sure everything goes okay,” she says.

“Clarke.”

“What? I just want to make sure Dante doesn’t mess up what we’ve been working towards this whole year.”

“Is that what this is really about?” He looks over at her, and sees her pout at him. In other words, no, that’s not what this is really about. He reaches his hand over and she takes it. “You’re going to be a great mom, you know that right?”

“What if I’m not ready?” she says.

“You’re ready,” Bellamy tells her. “Last time we babysat Jordan you tried to keep him.”

“Bell, be serious,” Clarke says.

Bellamy gives her a wry smile. “You’re ready,” he tells her firmly. “You’ve wanted this for so long. And we’re going to figure it out together, okay? And we’ll probably fuck it up a little bit because all parents do, but we’re going to do our best. Hopefully little Augustus turns out better than Octavia.”

“For the last time, we’re not naming him Augustus. Everyone would call him Gus, and then I’d have a child named Gus.”

Bellamy laughs. “Fine. It can be his middle name.”

“Jacob Augustus Blake.”

“Jake Blake? Really, Clarke?”

“We’ll work on it.”

They arrive home, and jump in the shower together to save time, which of course just means they waste more time, and they end up being twenty minutes late to Octavia’s dinner party. Another part of the reason Bellamy agreed to this night is that he’s intrigued to see if Octavia has actually taught herself to cook, or whether she’s roped Niylah in to do the cooking.

It turns out neither of these is the case, as Octavia’s definition of a dinner party is ordering in and making everyone pay for their own share. She does supply wine, however, and plenty of it, and by the time everyone has finished eating, they’re all pleasantly inebriated, with the exception of Clarke, for obvious reasons.

“I want to make a speech!” Octavia yells, dinging her fork against her half full wine glass as she stands up at the head of the table. “To Bellamy and Clarke, and their stupid wedding none of us were invited to, because they’re dumb and selfish.”

“Thanks, O,” Bellamy rolls his eyes. “That’s sweet.”

“I’m not finished!” Octavia scolds him. “I’m still annoyed I didn’t get to see my brother bawl like a baby on his wedding day, which I know he did because Clarke told me. But—” she turns to Bellamy and Clarke. “I’m very happy for both of you. Bell, I’m glad you finally stopped being pathetic and hooked up with your dream girl. Clarke, I’m glad you stopped marrying ugly randoms.”

“Hey!” Wells interjects, which is immediately ignored by everyone.

“Third time lucky, right?” Octavia winks.

“Lucky last,” Bellamy grins.

Clarke raises her glass of lemonade, amused. “To Bellamy,” she says. She turns to him. “My husband, my meant to be, my soulmate.”

“And to Clarke,” Bellamy says quietly, forgetting for a moment that everyone else is listening. “Love of my life.”

“Disgusting,” Murphy mutters from across the table.

“Agreed,” says Octavia. “As you were,” she adds, sitting back down. The table disperses into their own little conversations again, and Bellamy turns back to Clarke.

“Is it time to go home yet?” she whispers.

“I think we’ve done our duty,” he replies.  

They gather the gifts bestowed on them by their friends, say their goodbyes, and then, mercifully, they’re free. Once home, they take the gifts to Octavia’s old room, now converted into a nursery, since all the presents had been baby related. Bellamy goes to leave the room, but stops when Clarke doesn’t follow him. She’s staring around the room, hand on her stomach.

“Are you freaking out again?” Bellamy asks, coming to stand behind her. He puts his chin on her shoulder and wraps his arms around her.

“No, I’m just—thinking.”

“About?”

She turns her head slightly towards him. “About how I’m really, really happy,” she whispers.

Bellamy plants a kiss on her cheek. “Me too.”


End file.
